


A Time Without Name

by deedreamer



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Ladyhawke Fusion, Blood and Violence, Curses, F/M, Humor, Inspired by Ladyhawke (1985), Minor Character Death, light and dark, minor religious undertones, sun and moon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-10-11 19:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20551820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedreamer/pseuds/deedreamer
Summary: A dark curse forces our lovers eternally apart, leaving their only chance at breaking free to a thief, a hermit, and the incredible power of hope.A tale in three parts based on the fantasy film, 'Ladyhawke.'





	1. The Mouse

** _PART ONE: THE MOUSE_ **

_ The soul that sees beauty often walks alone. _ _ -Goethe _

The Mouse wasn’t a mouse at all. 

He was a man, born during one of the most wicked summer storms the village of Acqua had ever endured. But once upon a time, the man had been a boy, only cared for by his young and inexperienced mother until she’d succumbed to sickness and left the boy to seek manhood on his own. Barely old enough to accomplish such a task, the man had found himself surviving only on his wit and wiles—not to mention a certain penchant for thievery. His trademark inconspicuousness earned him a nickname amongst the other petty criminals of Acqua, and as such, Finnegan Storm became simply known as The Mouse. 

It was a sad day among other common thieves and transgressors in the village when the Bishop of Acqua’s guards captured The Mouse and sent him to the dungeons beneath the cathedral city to await his execution. Even The Mouse’s stiffest competition for pick-pocketing and brainless sleight of hand lamented his capture. But Finn Storm was too cunning to go out with an axe to his neck, and as such, the captive known as The Mouse planned one last grand ruse—betting everything, including his short life of only nineteen years—on his success. 

Digging through the thick, viscous mud below the dungeons, Finn Storm smiled to himself. There was but one challenge left and his escape would be complete. Picking the lock on the sewer grate that had graced his cell floor had been child’s play, and despite the disgusting sludge that now coated his body from head to toe, his journey through the muddy, rodent-infested channels beneath the good people of Acqua’s feet had proven as simple as anticipated. With gnarled knuckles, Finn pressed against a particularly thick wall of mud, instinct indicating he’d reached a critical spot on his journey. 

A single fingertip wiggled its way through the glutinous wall, the remnants of wet mud cool in the open air on the other side of the muddy gateway between death and freedom. Twisting his hands, Finn pushed harder, the effort making his shoulders strain until his forearm, coated and slick with brown mud, slid through the opening his finger had created.

“It’s almost as if I’m emerging once again from mother’s womb,” Finn murmured to himself, his dark brown eyes shining despite the virtual lack of light in his muddy tunnel. “Though I should hope to have better luck this time around, God willing,” he hastily added, tipping his head in reverence as he spoke to the Almighty. 

Finn’s other arm followed suit, and soon after, his head; then finally his upper body breached the hole in the muddy wall. He heaved with all his might, kicking his feet against yet more mud until he lurched and fell headfirst into the putrid water running through Acqua’s disgusting sewers. Finn broke the water’s surface with a wheezing gasp, his eyes furiously blinking as his hands flung wildly about his body before settling into a relaxed tread. 

“Lord, get me through this last trial and I shall never steal so much as a grain of rice again,” Finn prayed before gulping in a giant breath of air and diving beneath the surface, propelling himself deep beneath the city into the labyrinthine sewer tunnels until he burst through a grate to land with a loud plop into the retaining water surrounding the cathedral at the village center. 

Again, Finn broke the surface and gasped for breath as he squinted into the morning sun. In the style of his nickname, Finn scrambled out of the moat on silent feet, sliding on his belly along the rough, wooden planks of a utility dock. With their backs to him, two guardsmen sat, ripping hunks off of a shared loaf of bread. Without a sound, Finn reached a talented hand to grasp the ties holding the green velvet pouch at the one man’s hip. With a practiced flip-and-catch maneuver, Finn freed the pouch from the man’s possession before silently scurrying away, disappearing behind a natural berm in the surrounding fields of grass. 

Finn grinned at his prize. As realization set in, his brow furrowed. He bit his lip, glancing heavenward with a shamed expression. 

“What I _ meant _ to say, Lord, was that I would never steal again _ after _I took just this wee little bit in order to complete my escape.” Glancing down at his sodden, filthy tunic, ripped pants and shoeless feet, Finn added, mostly to himself, “Truly, one can’t be expected to play by the rules of the Good Book when one is covered in raw sewage, right, God?”

And with a quick glance at his surroundings, the man known among Acqua as The Mouse scampered across the empty field, away from the tolling bell of the cathedral, toward the freedom and the great unknown. 

He just needed to borrow some clothes, first. 

What Finn Storm didn’t see, as he filched a shirt and a pair of trousers from a villager’s clothesline, was the man, draped in a hooded black robe, sitting high atop the northern foothills on a giant black steed. His ornate, red-jeweled sword with a crossguard sat balanced at his hip while a Peregrine falcon perched on his gloved hand. 

And what Finn couldn’t possibly have heard from the cathedral’s sublime courtyard, was the grating voice of Benedict Snoke—the powerful Bishop of Acqua—as he ordered his Captain of the Guard to seek The Mouse at all costs, returning the thief to the dungeons to face his proper execution.

“Great storms announce themselves on a simple breeze,” the Bishop said, his beady eyes narrowed, his thin lips pursed and wrinkled. “Find him.”

* * *

Approaching the country ale house with light feet—now thankfully covered in the soft leather of another man’s boots—Finn grinned at the barkeep. 

“I shall have a mug of your finest ale, good sir!” he exclaimed, sliding a denier across the wooden bar. 

The grizzled man behind the bar lifted a sardonic brow before slowly moving to grab a pitcher of ale. Finn, despite the less than welcoming reception, felt as though nothing could dull his joyful spirits. He just escaped from the dungeons of Acqua, not to mention certain death! Something inside him, namely his ego, decided it would be a good idea to share this information with the other patrons sitting about the hard wooden benches. With a wily grin, Finn stood tall and hoisted a booted foot to the bench, lifting his newly filled mug of ale to the heavens.

“Perhaps the lot of you would enjoy celebrating with me—the one and only man to have escaped the dungeons of Acqua and lived to tell the tale!” Some heads rose and turned to eye him curiously. With a self-satisfied grin, Finn added, shaking the green velvet pouch of coins at his hip, “Ale for everyone, barkee—”

But Finn didn’t get to finish his sentence. Four men at a low table beside the bar slowly removed their hoods and came to a stand. They were huge, and each of them wore the Bishop’s insignia on his right breast. 

“Oh, blast!” said Finn, his smile wavering as his eyes went wide in fear. 

The leader of the men stepped forward, his shaggy ginger hair and close-cropped beard making his dark, deep set eyes appear sinister in contrast. “Perhaps one shouldn’t brag about such things, hmm, little _ mouse _?”

Finn swallowed hard, his mouth gone to cotton. “A good lesson, yes,” he said, nodding his agreement. Meanwhile, his cunning mind was calculating every possible next move—a grand game of chess amongst the small tavern’s courtyard. “I shall remember it always!” he yelled as he dashed to the right and began to scramble up the latticework, trying to evade the Bishop’s guardsmen. 

The next few moments were a vicious game of cat and mouse. Finn dodged beneath tables, overturned benches, hid behind wine jugs. Every move he made, one of the four guards seemed to find him before he darted and scurried, eluding them for another brief moment. Finally, The Mouse’s luck ran out, and he was cornered against a wooden post, his neck pressed into the splintered wood by the meaty hand of one of the guards. 

“Say your prayers, you filthy vermin,” the guard hissed, his teeth yellowed and his breath vile.

Finn closed his eyes. “This is it, Lord,” he murmured, shaking his head, screwing up his face as he prepared to meet his fate on the pointy end of the guard’s sword. 

“Let the boy go.”

The voice was deep and firm. It left no room for argument. Finn cracked open one scrutinizing eye.

“What?” the guard spat, turning his head toward the sound of the voice, his greasy hair brushing Finn’s shoulder with the abrupt movement. And then, miraculously, the hand around Finn’s neck loosened. “Captain Ren, sir,” he said reverently, directing his words to a tall, broad shouldered man with dark hair and pale skin, his right arm aiming a deathly arrow directly at the guard’s face. 

Which happened to be about three centimeters away from Finn’s very own face. 

Finn watched in confusion as the red-haired man stepped forward, his face drawn in a long sneer. “He is no longer your captain, Dopheld.”

The man beside Finn swallowed audibly. “No, sir, you are correct.” Finn just stood there, feeling a splinter dig into his shoulder as a nervous sweat coated his skin. 

“Dopheld,” the dark man said, a single brow raising in warning, as if he had every expectation the guard would heed his command. “Let the boy go,” he repeated. 

Beside Finn, this Dopheld’s eyes darted between the dark man and the redhead. Finally, he stepped away from Finn and faced the two other men. In the time it took the redhead to raise his sword and step toward Finn’s former captor, the tense moment was interrupted by the urgent flapping of massive wings, a blur of brown and gray and white swooshing across Finn’s vision with a high-pitched shriek. The sound and flurry startled the men and in that brief moment of distraction, Finn scampered away, rushing toward the dirt road. 

He heard the sounds of metal swords clanking, the grunting and yelling which could only accompany a brawl. But Finn Storm had seen enough of such things in his short life; he had no need to stay and witness another. 

So he ran. 

He ran until, about a quarter mile down the dirt road, Finn heard the crushing gallop of a massive horse, the pounding of the earth getting closer with each second until he could have sworn he’d be overtaken in the next instant. 

As it happened, Finn didn’t have to wonder if he’d be overrun by the steed quickly gaining speed behind him, because in a blink of an eye, strong, massive hands grasped the collar of Finn’s stolen linen tunic. Quite suddenly, the boy was airborne. With a yelp, Finn saw the green grass below turn to the blue sky above as his body was hoisted sideways and upside down at breakneck speed before quickly being unceremoniously shoved onto the hindquarters of a raven-haired horse, sitting directly behind the wide wall of the mysterious man in black’s back. 

“Hold on, boy!” the man nearly growled, returning his wickedly strong right arm to his steed’s reins as he leaned forward, squeezing the beast’s flanks between his thighs to encourage more speed. 

Finn didn’t have to be told twice. He wrapped his skinny arms around the man’s torso, feeling more like he was hugging a giant tree than a fellow human. He squeezed his eyes shut as the horse’s hooves kicked up a tornado of dust along the dirt road before he felt the earth slip from beneath him. Gravity ceased to exist for a brief moment as the horse leapt over a wooden garden gate and dashed into the cover of the wood, masking any trace of the two men from their remaining pursuers. 

After a short while, the man in black slowed his steed, soothing the heavy-breathing beast with a pat along its neck and a gentle coo. “Shhh, Silencer. Settle, now.”

Slowly, Finn peeled his head away from the middle of the man’s spine where’d he’d tucked himself into a tiny ball, hunching his shoulders as they’d ridden faster than the wind during their escape. And escape he had, due to the mysterious man’s unexpected aid.

“Good Sir,” Finn began, “I thank you for your kindness and for helping me escape that madness at the tavern—”

The man silenced him with a single hand raised in the air. “‘Twas not kindness, boy.”

Furrowing his brow, Finn swallowed, tasting earthen dust between his teeth. “Then why?”

“All in due time, little mouse,” the man replied, glancing over his shoulder to give Finn a knowing smirk. 

Up close, Finn could see the man’s skin was nearly translucent, pale as it was. His hair was black as night, his eyes the color of whiskey—oaken, aged, and unmistakably sad. 

“So you know who I am, then,” Finn said. The man had used his thief’s nickname to address him.

The man nodded, then turned forward once more, guiding Silencer deeper into the wood. His right hand held the reins in a firm grip while his left arm shifted, extending out along his rib cage. 

Curiosity piqued as Finn noticed the black leather glove on the man’s extended hand was different than the one currently gripping the reins—the cuff was longer, the leather sueded. Before Finn could ponder why, the man released a piercing whistle that echoed on the late afternoon wind. A moment later, a giant Peregrine falcon landed on the man’s outstretched fingers, his gloved hand creating a gentle perch for the massive bird. 

“Quiet, now. I’ll find us all a place to rest.”

Finn blinked in shock, staring at the falcon’s deathly golden talons. Slowly, the bird turned its head and rested its honey-gold eyes on Finn. Its sharp, slate-colored beak clicked once, and Finn got the distinct impression it was trying to tell him something. He narrowed his eyes and blinked again, but the moment the strange thought crossed the young man’s mind, the creature ruffled its gray and white feathers and turned its head forward, its gaze now steady and focused on the narrow path leading further ahead into the deep wood. 

* * *

Finn lost track of time; perhaps he even dozed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d truly slept, considering the nights leading up to his escape had been spent calculating and planning. It seemed he’d survived on sheer will and adrenaline alone. But now that second rush of energy from having been plucked—quite literally—from the ground and traipsing through the woods with this strange, massive man had also passed, Finn found his eyelids heavy and his heartbeat matching the slow, rhythmic plod of the stallion’s gait in the soft mud. 

“This should do,” the man said, his voice a deep rumble Finn could feel against his cheek, which was currently pressed against the stranger’s trunk-like back. 

Slowly, Finn blinked, trying to focus in the dim light from the late afternoon sun as it filtered through the heavy tree canopy. “Do for what, sir?” he asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes. 

The man didn’t answer Finn, but instead called out across a small clearing toward another figure: a middle-aged and withered man by the looks of him, who worked a swath of leather over a bench. “You there! My squire and I seek shelter for the night. We will pay for your hospitality and will be gone by sunrise.”

Silencer continued onward, slowly closing the distance toward the old man. He lifted a bearded chin and finally opened his toothless mouth to reply. “You can take the barn,” he called, pointing a bony finger toward a ramshackle structure across the clearing. 

“Aye, thank you,” the man in black said with a stern nod, steering his horse toward the barn. 

Upon inspection, Finn could see the barn was little more than two floors of hay stuffed between ramshackle walls and a precarious roof. It wasn’t much, but it would provide shelter from the elements. It would do. The man slid off his stallion before reaching a muscled arm up to Finn to help him off the horse. Like his master, the beast was giant, and Finn realized it was a long way down to _ terra firma _. 

Finn stretched, rubbing a sore spot on his flank from the hours spent rough riding. He squinted up at the man, now standing face to face for the first time since the encounter at the tavern. “So, I’m your squire now?”

The man shrugged. “More or less.”

“And if it was not kindness that led you to save my mortal soul earlier today, and I am more or less your squire,” Finn began, tilting his head in curiosity at the dark, haunted eyes staring down at him, “perhaps you can tell me what it is you want from me.”

“I seek your expertise, little mouse.”

Finn’s brows reached for his hairline, a flattered grin tugging at his lips. “Well, I am quite expert at many a task, sir. You might need to be more specific.”

“I’m going to kill Bishop Benedict Snoke,” the dark man stated lowly, his voice a black threat. Finn sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide. “And you’re going to break me in to the cathedral at Acqua.”

Finn couldn’t help the laugh that burst forth from his lungs. The idea was so preposterous, surely the man in black couldn’t be serious. “You’re joking.”

“I never joke,” the man retorted with a sniff before his jaw snapped shut.

Finn’s grin slipped from his face like smoke on the wind. “I… I won’t go back there,” he said, his heart thumping in his chest. 

The man nodded. “You will. And you’ll have my protection and aid. When the deed is done, I’ll ensure your safe passage to a place of your choosing. Somewhere far away from Acqua.”

Finn felt his jagged fingernails dig into the skin of his palm as his hands curled into tight fists at his waist. “And if I refuse?”

“You won’t. You’ve got nothing else,” the man said, shaking his head slowly, his eyes narrowing. _ “No one _ else.”

It was like the man could see right through into Finn’s very soul. He was correct; Finn _ was _ alone. Now free, thanks to his own cunning and cleverness, but still alone. No family, no friends to speak of. But, Lord, he would almost rather do _ anything _ than venture back to Acqua. 

With a heavy sigh, Finn glanced up at the fierce man before him, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “May I at least know who it is I’ll be helping to breach Acqua’s walls?”

The man’s lips twitched in a semblance of a smile, his eyes alight and eager at Finn’s reluctant consent. “You may call me Kylo Ren.”

Finn remembered the other man—the guard who’d fallen at the hands of the redhead in the skirmish at the tavern—calling his unlikely companion ‘Captain Ren.’ 

“And were you Captain of the Bishop’s Guard?”

The man called Ren’s jaw clicked again, his lips working silently. “A long time ago.” With that, the former Captain turned and began to ready Silencer for the evening, signaling that topic of conversation was over. “I have water, here,” he began, motioning to the filled skeins he unloaded from the beast’s back, “and some dried meat and bread. I’ll hunt something fresh, perhaps tomorrow.”

Finn nodded, his stomach growling at the thought of food. “I may forage in the woods, look for some berries or... hunt mushrooms.”

“Suit yourself,” Ren said with a shrug. “Just be sure to be back to camp before sundown. These woods are unknown.” 

With a nod, Finn turned to leave the barn. “Agreed.”

“Oh,” Ren’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “What shall I call _ you _, little mouse?”

Smiling, Finn turned about once more. “My name is Finn Storm, Captain.”

Dark brows pulled inward as a surprised laugh left the dark man’s lips with a huff. “Captain?”

“It sounds better than ‘My Lord’ or ‘Sir,’” Finn explained with a sly, lopsided grin. “And I’m quite sure ‘Kylo Ren’ is not the name your mother graced you with at birth, just like mine did not choose to name me after a scurrying vermin,” he continued, shrugging and speaking a mile a minute, the dark man’s eyes widening in surprise as he continued. “So until I know your given name—the one the good Lord knows you as—I shall call you ‘Captain.’”

The so-called Kylo Ren pinched his lips together. “You shall be waiting a very long time, little mouse,” he countered.

Then, without another word, he returned to his tasks as Finn stepped out into the clearing, assessing which way he might go to forage. He turned to look over his shoulder, intent on asking the Captain his opinion when the larger man’s activities made him hold his silence. 

Finn observed the Captain as he lifted a pale lavender scrap of material from a rucksack and pressed it to his lips. His massive shoulders lifted with a deep inhale, his eyes closing in a mix of ecstasy and unmistakable sadness. Feeling like an intruder, Finn turned on silent heels and left for the cover of the wood. 

* * *

Finn lost track of how long he’d wandered within the forest that bordered the clearing. He had collected a handkerchief full of morels and chantrelles, eager to wipe them clean when he made his way to the camp and eat them, perhaps with some of the Captain’s dried meat. Finn glanced down at his folded handkerchief and grinned. 

“If only I had a nice bottle of Bordeaux, my meal would truly be gourmet,” he murmured to himself, his self-satisfied pleasure evident in his tone despite the fact that no one was about to hear him. Finn’s grin slipped from his face as a sound in the brush caught his attention. “What in the Lord’s name…?” he gasped, nearly dropping his bundle of mushrooms as he tripped over a downed log.

When Finn heard the sound again, it was significantly more than a rustle in the brush. Twigs snapped as if they’d been crushed underfoot. “But whose foot?” Finn mumbled beneath his breath. “Captain?” he whispered, swallowing down his sudden bout of nerves as his pulse spiked. 

The only reply was another shift of the brush, another crackle of snapped wood, growing ever closer. Finn crouched low, glancing around to find himself in a small clearing where light from the setting sun filtered in, surrounded on all sides by the deep verdant green of the forest canopy already well on its way to evening. He was alone, exposed, beyond his curfew, and frightened to his very core.

“Well, God,” Finn began _ sotto voce _, glancing heavenward, “a field mouse I am not, and I find myself utterly unprepared for the state I’m in. Thrice in one day my life is in your hands. Even a fool like me knows you haven’t the time to save my mortal soul—not that it’s worth saving—three times in one single day.” He closed his eyes, setting down his filled handkerchief into the soft soil at his feet before bringing his palms to his chest in prayer. “But Lord, grant me one more sunrise and I swear I’ll—”

His thought was stolen from him as a strangled howl blended with the pitter-pattering whirr creeping ever closer to Finn’s mortal bones. His eyes blinked open, wide in shock as another snarling yowl cut through the quickly fading light just as a black snout broke through the underbrush. Yellow, lupine eyes seemed to nearly glow in the muted gray light. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, heart thudding beneath his ribs. His decision was made. 

“Forgive me, Father, but you’ll have to save my hide one more time!” Finn yelped as he launched himself upward and away, dashing through the woods as quickly as his soft-booted feet could carry him, praying he’d make it back to camp before he and his foraged mushrooms became the giant black wolf’s gourmet evening meal. 

A moment later and Finn found himself in the larger clearing which housed their borrowed barn. A low fire licked at an empty spit toward the center of the field. “Wolf!” Finn bellowed, chancing a glance over his shoulder as he sought to alert the Captain of imminent danger. But instead of finding his companion, Finn only spied the old farmer’s shadowed face, evident in the firelight. Behind him, Finn could see nothing but bleak, dark forest. Ahead of him, nothing but tendrils of smoke as he neared the firepit. Suddenly the old man was directly in his path, a spectre in the night, and Finn crashed shoulders with the farmer’s.

“Oh, run for cover, old man!” Finn yelled, urgency coloring his voice and making it crack like a boy’s. He righted himself, placing his palms on the old man’s shoulders to keep them both steady. “There’s a wolf!” 

“Aye,” the old man acknowledged, baring his yellow-stained teeth in something Finn could only call a sneer, “but I’ll get to ye, first.”

“Get to me… what?” 

Finn screamed, trying to thrust himself away from the sinister man. As he stepped back, the little mouse’s luck finally seemed to have run its course as he lost his footing and tripped, slipping to land in the mud. As he glanced up, he saw the sharp steel blade of an axe glint in the firelight. He watched the old farmer lift his arm high, the evil glint in the villainous man’s eye matching the orangey-red reflection on the deadly weapon seconds away from cleaving Finn in two. 

And then, Finn heard a sound he would recall for the rest of his life: a snarl, a deadly bawl, then the heavy thwack as a seven pound felling axe landed in the mud beside his feet. The farmer’s surprised howl morphed into a shriek as the giant black wolf sank its teeth into the murderous man’s neck, his sounds of fear and pain drowning out beneath the gurgles of blood as his throat was ripped from his neck. 

Finn scrambled in the mud, fear turning his blood to ice in his veins. He fought for purchase, but his feet slipped out from beneath him only once before he was running with all his might toward the makeshift barn. It yielded little protection, but he recalled the rickety ladder which led to the a hay-filled loft, and Finn silently prayed as he ran that wolves couldn’t climb. 

He skidded into the barn, the lower level dim in the weak residual light of the fire now that early evening had finally set beyond the shelter’s warped, glassless window frames. Finn, intent as he was to race toward the knobby ladder, nearly missed the hooded form lurking at the far right window, staring out into the clearing eyes locked on the massive wolf as it dragged the farmer toward the wood’s edge.

“W-wolf!” Finn stuttered, breathless, chest heaving. 

The figure at the window turned slowly at the sound, and suddenly Finn was mere yards away from the bright, golden eyes of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She blinked at him, her skin luminescent in the weak moonlight. “I know,” she replied.

Her voice was like bird song, soft and melodious, as if it belonged to the breeze and not to her corporeal being. 

“My lady,” Finn whispered, bowing his head in deference as he stepped closer. Because surely a beauty such as she _ must _ be a lady, her head covered in modesty beneath the hooded cloak made from the finest dove gray wool. The dim shadows of the dying day must have played tricks on Finn’s sight because, for a brief moment, the mysterious woman’s profile reminded him of the fine, ethereal lines more suited to a majestic bird—perhaps a swan or crane—rather than this human woman’s exquisite cheekbones.

“My lady,” he licked his lips, beginning once more as he willed himself to treat this woman with the respect she undoubtedly deserved, “‘tis not safe. A wolf followed me back from the forest.”

“Yet it was the wolf who seems to have spared you from that sinister axe,” she acknowledged, turning to gaze out the window once more. Finn followed her stare and found the clearing was now empty, save the smoldering, weakening fire. The wolf’s yellow eyes glared in the darkness at the edge of the treeline, as if waiting for something.

Finn blinked, a deep crease forming between his dark brows. “My lady?” He watched in silent shock as the porcelain-skinned woman turned and walked toward the open doorway, her feet hidden beneath the long hem of her cloak making it appear as if she floated above the dirty floor of the barn, like an apparition.

And perhaps she _ was _ an apparition, Finn thought, puzzlement and concern mixing within him in equal measure. Because what living, breathing thing would walk away from safety, right out into the middle of a clearing still soaked in blood from the attack they’d just witnessed? Yet drift on she did, her cloak skimming the muddied ground.

“My lady!” Finn called out in warning once more, fear tingeing his tone as his pulse quickened, leaving him anxious and gasping once more. 

The woman glanced over her shoulder and tucked her chin, giving him the tiniest signal that she heard him. Ignoring his warning, she took another step further then stopped short, the wool of her cloak swirling at her calves with the abrupt motion. And then Finn’s heart was in his throat as he watched the darker shape of the behemoth animal step from the wood’s edge toward the clearing, its gait cautious yet direct in its aim. 

“No,” Finn gasped, his voice catching on his thick throat, emerging as little more than a mouse’s squeak. 

The wolf paused beside the mysterious woman’s thigh. Finn watched in silent awe as she lifted her slight hand and set it atop the black beast’s hulking head, her slim fingers catching the moonlight as she carded through the wolf’s ebony fur. The animal sniffed the air and turned back toward the deep night of the forest. 

The lady followed, disappearing into the dark gloom as Finn was left alone in the barn, stunned into silence. 

  


* * *

  


A beam of sunlight lashed across Finn’s closed eyes, causing him to stir. He kicked his legs out, disturbing the bed of hay in which he’d eventually succumbed to a fitful sleep the night before. His eyes cracked open one at a time, shocked to find the Captain sitting with his back against the crude hewn-wall, eyes bright as if he guarded over the younger man in his sleep. 

“Captain?” Finn muttered, squinting as he pushed himself to a sit. “There was a wolf,” he began, swallowing thickly. “And a lady. A beautiful, mysterious lady!” he added with more urgency, his memories flooding him as his consciousness returned. 

Kylo’s dark brows rose in interest. “A lady, you say?”

Finn nodded, the horrors of the previous evening returning as his eyes widened. “Yes, and the farmer—he tried to kill me, but then wolf killed _ him _ , and _ then _the mystery woman disappeared into the wood with the beast, and—”

Kylo chuckled. “Sounds as if you are sleep deprived.”

Finn stopped short, his mouth dropping open as a deep crease formed between his brows. “I’m offended, sir!” The captain’s lips lifted into a half grin. The appearance of even a hint of a smile changed the somber man’s face so drastically, Finn felt his own mouth begin to curve upward at the sight of it. “Ah, you’re jesting.”

“I don’t jest, remember?” Kylo said, single brow raised. Then, in a voice low and soft, his chin dipping down toward his chest as a slight hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his full lips, “But, yes, I’m jesting. But only partly.”

“What? You don’t believe the things I’ve said? The spectacle I saw with these very two eyes?” Finn bellowed, pointing at his own deep brown eyes, stark against wide orbs of white. 

Kylo sighed heavily, then shrugged. “Wolves are common in these parts of the woods.”

“And next I assume you’ll be telling me beautiful women are common in these woods as well,” Finn muttered.

To the younger man’s surprise, the Captain actually chuckled. “Perhaps.” Then, before Finn could think of a retort or a way to restate his frustration over Kylo disbelieving him, the soft brown blur of the peregrine falcon swooshed through the cramped space between the two men in the hay-filled loft. The bird, majestic in the pink and champagne light of early morning, circled once in front of Kylo before coming to land atop the bed of straw directly beside Finn. 

His heart beat erratically, both surprised and a little nervous to see this giant bird of prey in such close proximity. Finn turned and looked down at her beady eyes and golden and gray beak. She blinked once at him, her irises the color of sun-warmed honey. 

“She likes you.”

The Captain’s proclamation didn’t surprise Finn, but the look on the older man’s face as he said it certainly did. Kylo’s eyes were glazed and distant, his expression soft, as if everything in his normally stiff countenance had become placid. As if, for just a moment, the dark, scarred hulk of a man was witness to God’s grace. 

Finn found himself speechless. The extreme change in the Captain’s expression affected him; his skin prickled with an undefined charge as a sensation of something greater—something for which his mind woefully lacked the ability to understand yet could grasp at a physical, almost molecular level—hung thick between them in the golden light of the loft.

“Maybe she recognizes a rodent when she sees one,” Finn whispered, a self-deprecating half-smile tugging on his lips.

Kylo shook his head, his dark hair brushing his shoulders as he did so. “I think she recognizes kindness. Truth.”

The Captain’s compliment filled Finn’s chest with a gentle warmth, the way one’s hands felt after a long, cold day outside as the skin first touches firelight. The sensation was strange and unexpected, the name of the feeling coming to Finn a further surprise: pride. 

Sighing, Finn locked eyes with the man across from him. “Alright. I’ll break you into the cathedral at Acqua,” he said, nodding, his decision made clear. “And I’ll do what I can to help you kill the Bishop.”

One of Kylo’s dark brows lifted. “I thought we’d already established that?”

Finn grinned, shaking his head. “No. _ You _established that without my true consent. Now, I’m concurring.”

“Well, then,” Kylo began as he pushed himself to a stand, ducking awkwardly to avoid the low beams of the barn’s loft, “I’m glad to have your covenant confirmed.”

Following suit, Finn stood. As he moved, the falcon flapped her tawny wings and circled to gently land on Kylo’s shoulder. 

“Look at her, just flying to your shoulder and avoiding your gloved hand altogether,” Finn murmured, smiling at the bird as she flexed her talons on the thick black cloak covering the captain’s neck and shoulders. 

Kylo turned, heading toward the rickety stairs. He chuckled and glanced over his shoulder, his smile soft but his gaze even softer as he looked at the bird. “Yes, she can be rebellious, this one.”

“Does she have a name?” Finn asked, as he followed Kylo down the ladder to the ground floor of the dilapidated barn. 

The man came to an abrupt stop. Without meeting Finn’s eyes, he shook his head, busying himself with packing up his meager belongings into Silencer’s saddlebag. “No,” he replied, the single syllable clipped. 

“Rebel,” Finn whispered, grinning at the imposing bird as she balanced perfectly on Kylo’s shoulder, barely wobbling in her perch even as he rose to his full height. “I’ll call her Rebel.”

* * *

The sun was high. Finn, Kylo, and Rebel had been slowly closing the distance to Acqua by following the peasant’s footpath that crossed the moors and led to the ancient city. The route meandered, taking the low ground in the valleys and fields and avoiding the more aggressive foothills and dense, wooded areas. 

Besides the fact that this particular route was slower, Finn couldn’t help but feel it left them exposed. When he’d asked Kylo about it the previous afternoon, shortly after starting their journey, the Captain had simply squinted into the bright sun, glanced over both his shoulders and nodded. 

“Aye,” he’d agreed, “but it’s better to be near the river valley.”

Nodding, Finn had realized the value in fresh water, but still it nagged at him that they were taking such a long, circuitous route back to Acqua. Truly, we wanted to get in, get out, and be done with Acqua once and for all. 

“Yet, we could fill the skins and take cover in the forest, sir,” Finn had suggested as he’d ridden behind the captain atop Silencer, the horse’s black flanks working a steady pace across the open, marshy field that sat between two smaller mountain ranges to the east and west. 

“The river is not for our benefit,” Kylo had grumbled. 

Puzzled by the man’s mysterious and terse response, Finn had pursed his lips and decided he’d mind his own business. The size of the heritage sword of Nimes—recognizable by its high quality steel and elaborate, jeweled crossguard hilt—which hung at Kylo’s side encouraged the younger man to hold his words. Just as he’d been shrugging off the hint of annoyance at the Captain’s stubborn decree, a shadow had sliced across the harsh afternoon sunlight, forcing Finn to jerk upward and find the shadow’s source.

But they’d not been under attack, nor had a freak spring storm been rolling in on silent feet. Instead, Finn had immediately spied Rebel as she swooped from high in the afternoon sky, then the shadow of her majestic body and wingspan had shifted, narrowing into a stoop before she dove at staggering speed down to the surface of the water where she’d crashed one side of her body into a small waterfowl. 

Rebel had screeched, a sharp war cry announcing success, as she’d immediately lifted from the river’s edge and had taken back to the skies, the smaller bird hanging limp in her powerful talons. Suddenly Finn had understood very clearly why they remained in the valleys and near the river. It was for the bird, for Rebel.

Now, the noon sun warmed the Captain’s heavy, dark uniform and cloak, sending a pleasant heat into Finn’s chest as he rode directly behind, their second day of the journey dragging. Yet, Finn didn’t seem to mind the new pace he’d become accustomed to. If it was for Rebel’s benefit, he agreed they could take their time on the journey back to Acqua. 

After all, Finn smiled to himself, a mouse tires of constantly scurrying. 

“Captain?” Finn asked, as a fierce rumble and cramp tightened in his stomach, “Did you hunt in the wood last night?”

With a small nod and nothing more, the dark man replied, “I did.”

Sighing with relief, Finn grinned. “I was hoping that’s where you’d gone. I woke up in the darkness alone with Silencer, and you were nowhere to be found. I’d hoped you were on the hunt.” Sheepishly, he added, “I’m starved, sir.”

“Starved?” Kylo repeated, a chuckle under his breath. “Surely you’ve survived on less, little mouse?”

Immediately Finn remembered the small tin cup of lukewarm water and stale bread ends he’d been given each night while in the cathedral’s dungeon as the Bishop’s prisoner. Sure, he might have sinned by stealing things here and there, using his God-given talent to ensure he didn’t starve on the streets of Acqua, but the Bishop’s rule with a cruel fist remained the most incompassionate and anti-Christian action Finn had ever seen. 

With a scowl that Kylo couldn’t see, Finn nodded. “Indeed. But I’d hoped I’d left those days behind me when I escaped the dungeons, Captain.”

Finn felt the larger man’s shoulders shake with a small huff of air. “Alright, we’ll sup on the hare I caught last night when we stop for the day.” The pangs in Finn’s stomach rioted at Kylo’s words. “But for now, it’s dried meat for you. We have distance to cover.”

A whiny complaint was on the tip of Finn’s starved tongue when an ominous shriek pierced the afternoon sky. Kylo yanked on Silencer’s reins and brought them to a staggering halt as his chin tilted heavenward, the man’s sharp gaze immediately darting to the western foothills. Finn squinted into the bright light, seeking the falcon’s silhouette as he tried to shield his eyes from the noon-day sun. 

Rebel shrieked again, swooping low and dangerous as she barrelled through the sky before them, her massive three-foot wingspan cutting through the air with a harsh whoosh. Without further warning, Kylo shoved Finn until he was scrambling as he slid off Silencer’s back, barely catching himself in the tall grass.

“What the—?”

The Captain cut him off. “Find cover behind that boulder. Now!” he barked.

Finn blinked once, his eyes wide with shock and fear as he saw the forms of three men appear atop the buffs on the western hills, each of them spaced far apart enough that Finn felt like a fly caught in amber. 

“Now, Finn!” Kylo repeated, his command allowing no argument. 

Despite the blood rushing through his veins and pounding between his ears, Finn found the ability to move his feet and he ran, quiet and quick as was his skill, through the tall grass and ducked behind the sizable boulder along the river’s edge. 

Rebel called again, a series of sharp chirps that could only mean alarm. He squinted into the sky and watched as she swooped and feinted, clearly trying to cause confusion and distraction. Finn caught Kylo’s swift movements as his bow and arrow were efficiently pulled from Silencer’s saddle and quickly set to aim.

It was as if time both stalled and moved at lightning speed all at once. The Captain’s arrows flew, as the ear-splitting whir of the other mens’ arrows descended around Kylo and Silencer. The horse neighed, rising up on its hind legs and darting to the side as its dark rider took aim and shot toward the west once again. 

A cloud of dust caught Finn’s eye, and in the distance he saw one of the attackers descend from the foothills at breakneck speed, his sable colored horse galloping toward Kylo as it found level ground. 

“Captain!” Finn called in warning, pointing a shaking hand toward the incoming rider. 

In response, Kylo calmly took aim at the other man, his arrow flying and just missing the assailant’s shoulder by a hair. At the same time, another set of arrows rained down on Kylo as he slipped off of Silencer and smacked the beast’s flank with a violent “ha!” to send the horse to safety out of the foray. 

From behind the boulder, Finn watched as the Captain methodically took aim at the men still on high ground. He yelped in excitement when he saw one of the attackers take an arrow to the belly and topple over, but his cheer was short-lived as the galloping horse with an attacker on its back closed the distance and neared Kylo where he crouched in the tall grass. 

With a gut wrenching cry, Finn’s hands grabbed a loose rock and found his legs pumping in the air as he dashed toward the enemy. He hurled the weighty rock and hefted it with all his might, watching it soar in a shallow arc and collide with the assailant’s skull with a dull thud. The man toppled over into the grass as the sable horse slowed to a trot, sniffing and whinnying in confusion.

“Yes!” Finn yelped in victory just as another enemy arrow soared past his ear, missing him by mere centimeters. He dashed back toward the boulder, intent on taking cover as a high-pitched howl pierced the sky. Finn looked up in horror as he saw Rebel swoop low and land hard in the grasses a few meters away.

A blood-curdling wail sliced through the air. Finn’s heart shuddered in his chest, his own will instantly challenged simply by the pure anguish evident in Kylo’s violent and unexpected cry. He unconsciously wrapped his arms around his waist, feeling scared and confused, feeling as though he needed to hold his ribcage together or risk the Captain’s obvious suffering. 

“Finn!” Kylo screamed, “Go to her!”

The Captain’s order snapped him out of his gut-wrenching stupor. Running so fast the grass whipped his arms and legs, Finn sank to his knees as he found Rebel, her little chest rising and falling rapidly, her beady eyes darting from side to side in panic. The sharp point of an arrow lay buried in her breast, several inches deep. Dark crimson blood pooled around the piercing, blemishing her beautiful gray and white feathers. 

Finn’s blood rushed between his ears. He felt like he was underwater, the sounds muted and distant, as he stared down at the elegant bird, her powerful body rendered motionless save the frantic rise and fall of her chest and the erratic blinking of her eyes. The golden orbs were wide with fear and the man couldn’t help but blink back at her, hot tears welling in his own eyes. 

“I...” he lifted his hands as if to touch Rebel, but lowered them down almost immediately as his voice faltered. “I don’t know what to do. Lord,” Finn squeezed shut his burning eyes, “tell me what to do!” he begged. 

A yelp in the distance made him gasp. He suddenly remembered there’d been one last attacker before Rebel had been hit. Finn didn’t have to wonder for long if the cry he’d heard had been the enemy or the Captain falling, because bloodshot, wary eyes soon appeared before him, their focus solely on the small form between the two men’s feet. 

“There’s an old monastery to the south,” Kylo began, his pale skin gone completely colorless, his dark eyes locked on Finn’s as if he could command the other man’s body into action simply by speaking his instructions. “Take her there. The old hermit, a former monk who lives there, will know what to do. You must get there before sundown.”

“What,” Finn gulped down a dry swallow. “What about you?”

The Captain’s jaw tightened, his nose flaring. “There will be more of Snoke’s guard on the road. I’ll need to distract and divert them to keep the two of you safe.”

“But—” Finn’s protest was nipped like a blade through soft hide. 

“Take that man’s horse,” Kylo grunted, pointing to the sable colored colt nickering in the grass a stone’s throw away, “and go!”

Finn rose slowly to a shaky stand as he watched the massive man’s trembling hands wrap Rebel in a soft woolen cloth with great tenderness, as if his large palms cradled his very heart. Kylo’s eyes were downcast, staring at the bird when he spoke once more, his voice thick and strained. “I’ll meet you there. Don’t delay, Finn.” Finally, the man’s dark eyes met Finn’s, and the anguish and fear he saw there made him wince. He pressed a fist to his chest to soothe the ache before holding his palms out for Kylo to transfer Rebel into his waiting arms. 

He didn’t know how he’d find the monastery, or if they’d make it before sundown, or what could possibly be done once they arrived there, but something deep inside Finn ballooned beneath his ribs, solid and sure, as if an outside force, maybe Divine Providence itself, assured the young man of its guidance. 

“I shan’t,” he said with a nod. Kylo hoisted him up on the colt and whacked the beast’s flank with a shout. The horse bounded across the valley toward the southern trail path, carrying Finn and his precious cargo into the cool cover of the deep wood.

  


* * *

  


The cloister loomed, sad and decrepit, just ahead. Finn glanced over his left shoulder and squinted into the bright salmon glare of the sun as it dipped low on the horizon. The horse trotted up the uneven walkway, announcing their arrival as the sound of its hooves echoed on the ancient stone structure. The walkway led to the main gate of the monastery’s keep, a massive oak door as tall as two men and nearly as wide. Finn raised his fist to knock but before his knuckles rasped the wood, a gravelly voice stopped him.

“Go away!” a gravelly voice, weathered yet firm, shouted from above.

Looking up, Finn instantly caught sight of bright blue eyes set in a seasoned, haggard face, the man’s salt and pepper beard nearly the same color as the muted brown-gray of his hooded cloak. 

“I’m in need of help,” Finn called.

The man’s azure eyes narrowed to slits. “There is no help for you here.”

“I was told that you were a man of God, that you could help us.” Finn’s voice was tinged with panic. 

“I am no longer a man of God,” the hermit replied solemnly. He stared down at Finn with an aggravated air. “Who sent you here falsely?”

“Kylo Ren sent me.” Gently, Finn lifted the trembling bundle he held clasped to his chest with his left hand. “Rebel is hurt.”

“Rebel...?” the old man grunted as he peered down over the parapet. Then, Finn watched as the old man’s blue eyes went wide and his angered jaw melted as a look of absolute panic washing over his worn countenance. “Dear Lord!” he gasped. “Bring her inside at once!”

The cloaked man disappeared from view as Finn heard the rustling of disturbed stones as they loosed on the other side of the gate, presumably a result of the monk’s frantic descent from above. Locks slid into place from behind the thick slab of wood, and with a seldom-used groan, the ancient door opened onto the monastery’s courtyard. 

“Let’s go, boy, inside!” the old man bellowed, waving his hands agitatedly as Finn directed his horse to enter. With an echoing thud, the heavy gate shut behind him. The hermit yanked on Finn’s pant leg, dread in his gaze. “Give me the bird.”

He was loathe to part with her, scared to give her safety to this roughened man who certainly didn’t seem very God-fearing based on the decidedly un-Christian welcome they’d just received. But Finn could only trust in the Captain’s orders, and Kylo’s assured command that the monk would help Rebel was the only hope onto which he could hold. Swallowing hard, Finn slowly passed Rebel down to the cradle of the monk’s waiting hands. 

The old man broke into a run, heading toward a doorway down a corridor to the right. “You can wait in the stables!” he yelled, throwing one hand above his cloaked head, indicating the opposite direction of where he ran. 

Bewildered, Finn began a slow trot toward his left. “Oh yes, of course, I’ll just show myself to the stables,” he muttered. After a few more steps, he gently tugged on the horse’s reins to stop. The horse snorted as Finn sighed heavily. “You know what, horse?” he asked, sliding his weary leg up and over the animal’s back as he slid down to the ground. “Why don’t _ you _ guide _ me _ to the stables? You can scent that hay, I’m sure of it,” Finn whispered, brushing his hands along the beast’s russet fur.

Holding the reins gently in his left hand, Finn waited for the colt to continue on. They meandered down a long walkway and took a turn toward the west, the sunset’s shadows deep and long along the stone pathway. The little light that was left was no longer golden, but deep crimson and gray. Finn and the horse stumbled into an unkempt stable just as the sun sank below the horizon.

“There you go, friend,” Finn whispered, patting the horse’s neck as the beast dipped its head toward a bundle of hay. “You’ve served well,” he continued, “but now I have to go wait for the Captain. And I’m not waiting in the stables, despite what the old man said.”

Finn turned to make his way back toward the main gate, expecting to locate the stairway that would lead to the parapet where he first spoke to the hermit. As he reached the cloister entry, he heard a distinctly feminine agonized wail, a cry so fierce and desperate, Finn’s breath caught in his throat. He followed the sound directly to the door through which the old man had entered with Rebel. 

Another cry pierced the evening air and Finn’s panicked heart began to thump in his chest. He reached for the handle, only to find it locked. He jiggled the door and called, “Oi! What’s happening in there?”

He heard no reply, just random movement on the other side of the door, steps getting closer until finally the door flew open and the old man barrelled into Finn’s chest. “I told you to wait in the stables!” he growled, yanking the door closed behind him and locking it with a hefty iron key. “Go away, boy!” the man called over his shoulder as he hurried away. “I have work to do!”

Finn watched the old man bustle away, then turned and stared at the locked handle. “Well,” he sighed to himself, “that just won’t do.” He pulled two long pins from the waist of his pants. “Good thing I’m a thief,” he murmured, self-satisfied, as he proceeded to pick the lock. A loud click signaled the unlocking of the barrels, and Finn pushed open the door.

The room was dim, an ancient kitchen by the looks of it, lit only by the fire that roared in the stone hearth that stretched along the northern wall. An old, massive wooden prep table took up the middle of the room, but it was the woman whose body lay limp atop it that immediately caught Finn’s attention. 

It was the beautiful, honey-eyed woman from the woods.

And she had an arrow protruding from her breast. 

The noise of his entrance seemed to wake her, and Finn watched, shock slackening his jaw, as the woman turned her head ever so slightly to glance his way. “M-my lady?” he whispered. “Rebel?”

The woman’s lips curled into the tiniest hint of a smile; the effort appearing to exhaust her. Finn stepped closer. Her shoulders were bare beneath a woolen blanket, the fresh blood on her chest glistening bright crimson in the firelight even as Finn’s eyes caught the darker, dried flakes of blood that already caked much of her collarbone. 

Finn’s mouth dropped open, no words coming to him. His brow furrowed, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. “You…” but before he could continue, the door opened and shut with a bang, and the old man dashed toward the table, his eyes glaring daggers at Finn over the basket full of supplies in his hands. 

“I told you to get out!” he seethed. But then the old man’s eyes flitted to the woman’s, and Finn watched as the two shared a look, thick with implication and unspoken agreement. “All right,” the hermit sighed, resigned. “Help me hold her down.”

Eyes widening, a pang shot through Finn’s heart. He couldn’t bear to be part of the pain he knew Rebel would soon endure. But he took one look at her golden eyes, solid and sure, and Finn knew immediately that he must. He squeezed his jaw tight, breathing heavily through his nose, as he watched the monk unload the basket of supplies. Scraps of material were dipped in a steaming pot of water and wrung out before the man took out a small jar, removing its lid to reveal a green, gelatinous salve.

The man lifted a scraggly brow at Finn, the old man’s bright blue gaze serving to center Finn and calm his frantically beating heart. “On three,” he spoke, his gravel in his voice suddenly less harsh as he flicked his gaze from Finn down to the woman whose chest rose and fell in deep, wheezing breaths. 

“One,” he whispered, locking his eyes with her golden ones. Time seemed to move in slow motion, the fire’s shadows leaping in a slow, twisting dance, lighting the room with a flickering haze. “Two,” the man continued, adding a slight dip of his chin as he spoke the syllable. In return, Finn watched the heartbreakingly beautiful woman lying prone give the tiniest nod of her own, her eyes never once leaving the monk’s. 

“Three!” the man rasped, simultaneously jerking the arrow from the woman’s breast, the flat ends of its arrowhead ripping through her flesh as she bowed her back and wailed in pain. 

“Tis done!” the monk shouted, his voice echoing on the stone walls as he slathered the green salve on the wound then layered hot rags over it, his shaking hand resting atop the dressing like a prayer. The hermit hung his head, a whimper escaping him as he repeated, barely more than a whisper, “The deed is done, my girl.” 

Finn watched as the woman’s eyelashes fluttered for a moment before her eyelids sank closed, shuttering her gaze. “She—!” he began before the old man’s free hand found Finn’s chest, his warm, weathered palm settling over the frenzied beat of his heart. 

“She needs her rest,” the monk announced, his voice soothing and reassuring, but a command nonetheless. 

Finn nodded. “I’ll stay with her.”

The hermit dropped his hand from Finn’s sternum, then lifted his other hand from the pile of rags he’d laid on top of the woman’s chest. Nodding, the old man sighed. “You can watch over her. But first, you must eat.” Blinking away his surprise, Finn followed the man as he washed his hands in the pot of steamy water. “Come with me,” the hermit instructed.

Finn stared down at the sleeping woman, noticing straightaway that her breathing was steady and calm. She looked peaceful in repose and everything in Finn’s gut told him she would heal. Just then, his stomach rumbled angrily. With one last glance, he turned and quickly followed the old man out into the night. 

The light of another fire drew Finn to where the monk sat, smoke curling into the open air of the courtyard. A loaf of bread, a canteen of water, and pewter plate with cheese and dried meat rested on the bench beside him. “Come sit,” he beckoned. 

Cautiously, Finn sat down across from the bearded man, the fire crackling between them, logs snapping in the evening air. “Thank you,” he said, “for the food, and for helping Rebel… uh, _ her _,” he said. The old man nodded once, tearing a hunk of bread from the loaf and passing it to Finn. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Finn asked quietly, eyebrows reaching for his hairline.

The hermit eyed him warily, then sighed. “Are you going to tell me who you are?”

“Me?” Finn asked around a mouthful of crusty bread. “I’m no one.”

“You’re my guest,” the man countered, raising a brow. “And Kylo trusted you… so you must be _ someone _.”

Swallowing, Finn decided he had nothing to lose, and his curiosity over what the hell he’d just witnessed since arriving at the monastery had him willing to reveal almost anything. “I’m Finn Storm,” he began. “I escaped my death by escaping the dungeons of Acqua. I then narrowly escaped death once again in the countryside when the Captain came to my aid. For the last few days, we’ve traveled together—he, Rebel and me—making our way back to Acqua.”

The man’s brows furrowed deeply. “Why are you returning to such a place?”

Finn clamped his jaw. What he was about to admit was nothing less than advertising he was an accessory to murder. He took a deep, steadying breath and sat up taller. “I’ve sworn my allegiance to the Captain, to help him break into the cathedral so he can seek revenge on the evil Bishop.”

The old man’s shoulders sank, his head falling heavy into his palms. “Oh, Kylo,” he sighed. He glanced at Finn from between the web of his fingers. “And you go with him—you aid him—freely?”

Finn blinked, thinking quietly over the older man’s question. “He saved my life.” He nodded once, firm and confident. “Yes.”

“Well,” the man began, stretching his legs and looking up at the stars just now beginning to become visible. “I suppose you’ve earned the right to know, then.”

Too afraid to risk the hermit changing his mind, Finn held still. He didn’t move; he barely breathed. Finally, with another heavy sigh, his reluctant companion wrenched his eyes from the stars and leveled Finn with a baleful sorrowful gaze. 

“Your ‘Rebel’, you’ve surmised, is not what she seems. She is Lady Reyna of Chateau la Sable, the last of her line. The evil Bishop himself coveted her, and despite the holy laws binding him to a simple, Godly life, Snoke couldn’t stand the fact that she didn’t return his affections.” The old man shook his head, his eyes clouding with troubled memories. “When he discovered that his Reyna had secretly married her true love, the Captain of his Guard, the Bishop became incensed. He summoned demons and dark magic alike in order to punish the young lovers for their happiness.”

“Dark magic?” Finn whispered, his brows furrowing as his pulse spiked.

“Yes, my boy… dark as night,” he nodded, fixing his gaze firmly on Finn. He swallowed thickly and continued. “Dark like the fur which covers Kylo’s wolf form each night as the sun sets. Infernal as the winged plumage that launches Rey to the skies upon each sunrise, husband and wife eternally damned to be in each other’s lives, but never again in each other’s arms.”

Hot tears pooled in Finn’s eyes, blurring his vision. The Captain’s desolate wail as Rebel was shot and fell to the earth rang in his ears… the memory of the woman’s mysterious calm as she approached the wood’s edge, her fingers threading through the vicious, murderous wolf’s ebony fur like a caress.

The hermit sniffled, swiping his beard with his trembling hands. His shameful eyes found Finn’s once more. “I was the monk Kylo and Rey trusted to marry them and keep their secret. I was the wretched soul whose loose lips betrayed them, giving rise to Snoke’s dark curse. 

“The blame of their fate lies with me.”


	2. Part Two: The Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our tale continues... and we witness a secret marriage in Acqua's catacombs.

When she opened her eyes, the fire was no more than embers in the hearth. She shifted, making as if to lift her head to check her surroundings when a kind voice stopped her. 

“Be still, my lady.”

Carefully, her eyes followed the sound of the voice and tracked the source to the corner of the massive stone kitchen, sitting beside what was left of the fire. It had been roaring, casting shadows like demons in the night, when she’d last seen it reflecting in Luke’s eyes as he’d counted down until the moment he ripped the arrow from her breast. Her entire body trembled at the memory. The young man’s smile, tender and shy, brought her back to the present moment. 

“It’s still plenty warm,” he said, pointing one of his moccasin-covered feet toward the fireplace. “I didn’t want to rebuild it and risk disturbing your rest with the firelight.” Slowly, as if cautious not to startle or scare her away, she watched him rise and approach the table where she rested, immobile, chest burning in streaks of white-hot pain with every inhale. “Little Rebel...” he whispered. “May I now call you Lady Reyna?”

She closed her eyes, her lids feeling heavy as her breath escaped her in a long exhale through her nose. “Luke told you?”

“After what I saw, he had to, my lady,” the young man replied with a nod. 

“Just Rey,” she breathed as her amber eyes flitted open once more.

“What?”

“Not Lady Reyna. Just Rey,” she clarified. 

“Oh, alright. And you can call me Finn,” he added with a nod and a sheepish smile. “But you probably knew that already.”

“It’s nice to officially meet you,” she said, smiling up at him. When the young man’s tentative smile turned into a full grin, Rey felt relief flood her aching limbs. She didn’t know why, but somehow, for the first time in a long time, she felt hopeful. 

Finn furrowed his brow and his eyes clouded with concern as he stared down at her prone form. “Are you in pain, my lady?”

She chuckled, wincing. “There you go ‘my ladying’ me again.”

The young man shrugged, his dark skin doing little to hide the ruddy blush deepening the color of his cheeks. “Old habits die hard.”

“It hurts, yes,” Rey replied softly, going back to Finn’s earlier question. “But I want to sit up. Can you help me?”

“Yes, yes! Of course,” he said, rushing to get a grip on her that wouldn’t cause undue pain. He had little luck, and Rey yelped as he used his strong arms and lithe chest to guide her to sit. 

“I’m sorry,” Finn whispered, pain straining his voice. “Are you alright?”

Rey trembled in Finn’s embrace, her chest burning and her right arm aching. “I will be,” she grunted. “Luke’s salve will start working soon.”

Finn steadied her back before carefully sliding over to the side of the table, keeping one arm poised at the ready in case the lady needed support. “Do you know that from experience, my lady?”

She raised a sardonic brow at the young man, but didn’t bother to correct his method of address. “I’m afraid I do,” she replied. “I don’t know what the old man puts in it, and it smells absolutely horrid, but it _ does _ work. I’ll be right as rain in another few hours,” she said, a slight wince punctuating her statement. 

“And until then? Can I get you anything to eat or drink, my lady?”

“No, but thank you, Finn. You’re very kind.” Her gaze shifted, memories distracting her. Her voice took on a dream-like quality. “You’ve always been very kind. To both of us… even when Kylo didn’t deserve it.”

“Thank you, but he saved my life, my lady,” he spoke quietly, then added, “twice.” 

Rey shrugged without thinking, and the pain from her jostled shoulder and chest—hot like oil spitting on a fire—was unbearable. She shrieked, losing the strength to keep herself upright. Finn was there, his hands solid and true, waiting to ease her back down to the table. 

“Oh!” Rey cried, “what I would give to not feel this pain! What I would give for Kylo to be here to see me through it.”

Finn was quiet for a moment. He looked lost, which she could understand, but his expression firmed with determination. He reached for her hand, which felt strangely small in his. She could only imagine how fragile her cool skin, stretched tight over gossamer bones, must feel compared to the warm, calloused pads of Finn’s fingertips. 

“My lady… Rey… Luke told me that you and the Captain—that you and _ Kylo _—were married?”

Rey’s eyes slid shut as a smile grew on her lips. “Oh, yes...I… I miss his face,” she exhaled, her eyes still closed and that sad yet serene smile still gracing her lips. Rey felt the salve beginning to work on her pain as she slipped into some sort of altered state of awareness. 

Finn’s voice dragged her back from dwelling on her wound. “How did you meet, you and the Captain?”

And so it began.

Rey spent the next several minutes recounting the first time she saw Kylo Ren, Bishop Snoke’s Captain of the Guard. From her first days at Acqua to finish her education before returning to her chateau and awaiting a potential match for a husband, Rey had seen the dark, imposing man and instantly been smitten. 

“I’d thought it was one-sided,” she recounted, her voice soft and filled with melancholy, “after all, half the time he wears that menacing glare, and the other half he’s aloof and impervious. But no!” Rey’s head lolled as her smile grew, her eyes fluttering open for a moment as she announced with mirth, “he had noticed me, as well. He’d followed me to the Bishop’s water garden and pronounced his unwavering fealty.”

Finn chuckled in surprise, she was sure. She and Kylo had changed so much from those days. “Had you two ever even spoken?”

Her eyelashes fluttered before her eyelids slid shut again, but her voice was still strong as she answered dreamily, “Never.”

_ Never _, Rey thought to herself as memories and reality became blurred, her mind struggling to remain in the fuzzy present. What was clear, though, was her crystalline recollection of the past—she’d re-lived it every night over the five long years since the Bishop’s curse—and those precious memories played in her mind on a loop. Sometimes, it was only her ability to hold on to them that made her feel like she could go on another day. 

"Sleep,” she managed to murmur, suddenly too tired to speak, but her mind was exceptionally lucid. The memories began to replay; the joy and overwhelming pleasure of first love washed over Rey like a balm, soothing her soul as much as Luke’s salve eased her body’s wretched pain. 

_ The first time she saw him, Rey watched him from across the music room at the cathedral. She was in the middle of her harp lessons She plucked, her brows furrowed in concentration as she practiced the scales she’d been given. But she was finding it difficult to concentrate; a black shadow slipped back and forth behind one of the columns at the far end of the cavernous room, catching her periphery. Each time Rey stopped plucking to look up, she saw nothing but the gilded alabaster of the room’s structure. _

_ Again, she re-started her scales, her lips pursed in annoyance at herself for her lack of focus. As she practiced the dexterity of crossing her fingers under and over the strings, working her way to the last notes, the same dark shadow emerged just feet away from where she sat. She whipped her head to the right, intent on finally catching sight of her menace. _

_ “Oh!” she gasped. _

_ Her blood vibrated within her veins like the harp string’s discordant note vibrated beneath the tips of her fingers. She stared directly into the warm brown eyes of a man doused head to toe in black. His luscious hair fell in natural waves around his face and shoulders, the color of midnight. He wore a full uniform of charcoal black including a dignified cape that clipped to the top of his broad shoulders. The only drop of color on his person was the red and gold insignia sewn on his left breast indicating he was a member of the Bishop’s guard. _

_ No—not just a member. The small stitching beneath the emblem read _ princeps; _ her rudimentary Latin indicated this man held the rank of Captain. _

_ Rey waited a moment, willing her heart to calm. She couldn’t tell whether her pulse pounded from surprise over his presence, or from the striking, imposing presence of the man himself. Not traditionally handsome, his pronounced features worked together like those of the greatest artists Rey had been studying since her arrival at Acqua: full berry-colored lips, a prominent nose, dark brows, a strong jaw. She simply could not look away. _

_ So she stared at him, waiting for the man to speak, as was the custom. Perhaps he would introduce himself, or compliment her on her scales. Perhaps he would reach his massive, paw-like hands toward her to gently grasp her delicate hand in his. Perhaps she would even be lucky enough to feel those opulent lips at the back of her hand as he pressed a courtly kiss there. _

_ She lingered so long that the silence between them grew heavy, the skin of her forearms prickling in gooseflesh as his wide, dark eyes simply stared at her. The man’s lips moved as if to speak, but then she watched as he clamped his jaw, his head moving in the slightest motion as if he was a toddler refusing to eat his peas. His bright gaze suddenly clouded, and without a word, the man dipped his chin in a hint of gallant deference, and he spun on his heels, his dark cape billowing in torrents behind him, a veritable one-man force of nature. _

_ Rey sat beside her harp, eyes wide and blinking, wondering what on earth just happened. _

_ That night, she dreamed of the Captain. In her sleep, the man in black reached for her hand, and she felt those plush lips on the thin skin of her hand, the sensation of his warm, damp breath against her flesh sumptuous and tempting, like the sweetest ambrosia. Rey jolted awake, her heartbeat a resonant echo in the cage of her ribs, a heavy, aching emptiness between her legs. _

_ The following day, she saw the mysterious man in black once more. This time, she’d been in the small chapel, finishing her morning prayers, a few other worshippers still lingering, each of them smattering the pews with their kneeling forms. Her head had been bowed in benediction, her lips moving silently to the routine of the words, when her forearms tightened into gooseflesh once more. _

_ Rey’s words stalled on her tongue. She did not need to raise her gaze to know it; the Captain had entered the chapel, as sure as the sun rose in the east. She took a deep, grounding breath before lifting her chin, her eyes immediately falling on his massive form as he stood on guard beside the small room’s rostrum. She breathed deeply, desperately, as the mint and floral scent of hyssop and the earthy, warm essence of Frankincense filled her senses. _

_ The man in black watched her, his eyes locked with hers like a wolf on the hunt. His jaw was tight, his dark eyes piercing. Rey felt the man’s alarming glare in her very soul. _

_ It felt dangerous. _

_ And yet, she welcomed it. Welcomed those enigmatic eyes on hers, welcomed the way her heartbeat pulsed in fear and what could only be some sort of primitive, irrepressible desire. She held her chin steady, her gaze locked on his, until the Captain’s eyes narrowed nearly imperceptibly before he turned and disappeared into the shadows once again. _

_ Rey blinked, her breath still coming in quick, shallow pants. Deep in her chest, she ached. Perhaps, she lamented silently, all that would ever transpire between the two of them would happen in her dreams. Rey raised her eyes to the ornate crucifix at the dais and asked for the Lord’s forgiveness of her strange, unbidden desire. _

_ But as she fell into bed that same night, Rey pulled the cool linen sheets to her cheeks, covering the heat of her profuse blush, and privately longed for the man in black to visit her in her dreams once again. _

_ As she slept, the Captain indeed came to her. This time, she didn’t see him, his face obscured by a midnight black hood, but she knew it was him. In her dream, his hulking form stood behind her, his gloved hands falling to a proprietary hold at her hips. The heat of his palms burned her like a brand despite the layers of her modest garments separating them. _

_ His hot breath tickled the shell of her ear as he spoke. The man’s voice was deep; a rich, luxurious vibrato she had never heard, yet she felt the truth of it at her very core. “You are the sun and the moon, my lady.” _

_ Again, Rey jolted awake, her eyes wide as saucers in the velvety darkness of the room. A pale sliver of moonlight filtered in through the single window of her guest chambers. As she gazed out into the night sky, a silhouette of a hunting bird soared across the starlit backdrop. She steadied her breath and willed her heart to settle its pummel and pestle. _

_ There would be no more sleep for her this night. _

_ When dawn broke and Rey’s pitiful hold on her restless dozing could finally be relinquished, she rose and dressed slowly. The man’s mysterious words in her dream lingered in her consciousness, as if they held a key to some enigmatic ploy she could not grasp. _

_The sun and the moon… _

_ Rey wrapped her arms around the sudden ache in her chest. Her ribcage felt cracked open, exposed to the elements, her very heart crude and unprotected. She felt on the verge of ruin, raw and baited for the hunt. _

_ Perhaps the man’s words… her dream… perhaps it meant nothing. _

_ She spent the day in a melancholy haze, the late afternoon sun warming her wistful disposition as she sat in the cathedral’s quiet, abandoned water garden. Birdsong and the soft, tranquil sound of water running over stone were Rey’s only company. _

_ Until a dark shadow entered Rey’s periphery. She flicked her amber eyes to him, her heart seizing like a damaged spindle. _

_ “Come into the light, Captain,” Rey beseeched, surprising herself with her boldness. Oh, but to end this miserable game, she thought. And yet, she dreaded the misery she would truly feel if this game of cat and mouse should truly come to an abrupt end. _

_ The Captain knelt before her in Bishop’s prized garden, the silent statue of the Virgin Mary watching over them as water danced over a fountain’s edge. Slowly, he reached one gloved hand toward her, grasping one of her hands from the cradle of her lap. _

_ “My lady, thoughts of you occupy my every waking moment.” _

_ The reality of him touching her was no less exquisite than her dream of this very moment. Rey could feel her pulse throb along the column of her neck as the tiniest beads of perspiration bloomed between her breasts. She had never expected someone with a bosom as poorly endowed as hers could heave, but swell her chest did with each intense fill of her lungs. _

_ “Please do not think me too forward; please do not fear me. For what I proclaim to you now is the truth of my very soul.” _

_ “Captain,” Rey gasped more in sheer delight than surprise, “I fear you only as much as I fear myself, for thoughts of you haven’t strayed from my mind since the moment I first glanced your deep eyes.” _

_ Rey felt the Captain’s grip on her slim fingers become more firm, as if he were rooting himself to her. “Then you have been struck, too, my lady?” _

_ A grin tugged on her lips and the apples of her cheeks felt flushed. “I have,” she admitted, nodding. Just as quickly, her smile slipped and her brow furrowed. “But I am here but for a fortnight, and then I must return to Chateau la Sable in the north country to await an eligible match.” _

_ The hand not holding Rey’s balled into a fist so tight she could hear the leather creaking as he squeezed. His chocolate brown eyes widened and glared with a vivid heat. “What match?” he barked. _

_ “I do not have one yet,” Rey said, shaking her head. “But I am told it is unacceptable for a woman to be mistress of her own estate, and impossible for one to manage the dealings of a castle on her own.” _

_ Kylo’s expression remained mostly impassive, but the little tic at his left eye caught Rey’s attention, making her realize perhaps his thoughts on the matter might differ from the majority. _

_ In a quiet voice, deep and secretive, as if his words were something precious, he asked, “And how do you feel about that assessment?” _

_ A huff of air escaped through Rey’s nostrils. She did her best to school her indignation. This line of questioning had not boded well for her in the past. Yet, she could not hold her tongue. _

_ “In my twenty years I have found not one thing a man could do which I could not. At a young age, my father taught me to ride and shoot. I’m not afraid of the wolves that prowl the forest at night; why should I fear minding an old chateau?” _

_ His lips twitched, but the smile Kylo suppressed found its way to his face nevertheless. Dark eyes shined, peering up from beneath long lashes. The contrast against his pale skin was as striking as the myriad of moles adorning his face like constellations. _

_ “Indeed,” he murmured, those eyes trailing over her face, then lower, before coming back up to lock firmly on… Was he staring at her lips? _

_ As the question, absurd as it was, popped into Rey’s mind, she could not help but dart her tongue out to dampen her own suddenly dry lips, her pulse beginning to swell beneath her skin and thrum beneath her breast. _

_ “My lady,” Kylo began, “though I am an expert huntsman and unparalleled with the bow, I find in this moment it is Cupid’s arrow that holds me hostage. I do not believe a thousand stallions could drag me from your side without you granting me the honor of touching you.” _

_ Rey’s heart skipped a beat altogether. “Oh, but Captain, you touch me now,” she replied softly, her voice a breathy whisper as she turned her head to gaze at where his gloved hand cupped her elbow. _

_ His eyes flicked from her lips to her eyes, then back down. He shook his head slightly, a furrow deepening between his brows. “No,” he began, then paused to swallow thickly. “No, like the lily yearns for the sun, it is my lips that ache for yours.” Kylo’s tongue darted out, licking the seam of his lips. Rey watched his teeth dig into the plush berry skin, worrying it. “May I have the honor?” _

_ Rey’s eyelids fluttered along with her heart as her hand slid down to grasp his free one. She tugged him ever closer, his long legs awkward as his knees tucked and turned as he attempted to get as near to her as possible. She gave his hand a tender squeeze, the leather beneath her palm soft and supple, warm as summer sunshine against her skin. _

_ “You may,” she whispered, her eyes following those lips of his with a bird of prey’s precision. _

_ He closed the distance between them, and the moment Kylo’s lips touched hers, Rey’s world—her entire existence—exploded in a torrent of emotion. Her eyelids slipped closed as colors, bright and vivid and more than she’d ever seen in her life, paraded in her mind’s eye like a firemaster’s pyrotechnic display. _

_ Kylo’s lips were soft, yielding yet firm, as they pressed against hers. At first it was just the utter closeness of him that overwhelmed her, but then the heat of his breath graced her lips, the smell of leather and woodsmoke and something spicy Rey’s brain could not possibly attempt to process infiltrated her senses. And, oh… the moment his hot, wet tongue skimmed the seam of her lips, all ability to think escaped her. _

_ She opened her mouth to suck down a vital breath, her body somehow knowing how to respond to this dance as old as time itself as her own tongue chanced a taste, their breath mingling as their kiss turned into a deep, sated sigh, as if their shared breath was a metaphor for the single soul which now thrived inside two bodies. _

_ Slowly, they pulled away from one another, eyes glazed, chests heaving. “I did not think something could complete me and make me yearn so deeply all at once,” Rey breathed. _

_ Kylo’s eyes slipped closed as his hand slid behind her head, cradling her to the crook of his neck. She felt his pulse pounding beneath the thick, dark layers of his uniform, his scent overwhelming and impossibly right as his lips brushed the crown of her head. _

_ “Fate herself has bound me to you,” he spoke, his words a deep vibrato in his chest, tickling her ear. “I knew it the moment I saw you at prayer in the chapel. The incense burned, hyssop and Frankincense, and I knew at once the Lord spoke to me through my senses.” _

_ “Kylo,” Rey whispered, his breath still lingering along her profile like a protective blanket, “what do you mean?” _

_ “Hyssop is ruled by the moon while Frankincense is slave to the sun,” Kylo stated, his words earnest and gaze unwavering. “And you, my lady, in these few short days have become my moon, my sun… my entire world.” Kylo grasped both Rey’s hands in hers. “Beloved, seek a husband no more,” he implored. “Let me leave this place and return to Chateau la Sable with you.” He pulled away, glancing down at Rey with needful eyes and a trembling lip. “Please,” he entreated, his voice cracking on this single syllable. _

_ Rey blinked, mesmerized and struck by too many emotions barraging her all at once. She yearned to say yes, but could not help the questions that reared to life in her mind. How could this man want her so definitively? He barely knew her. How could he be willing to leave his life in Acqua behind, to journey so far to an unknown region with nothing but strenuous work and toiling over a decrepit castle and its failing lands in his future? _

_ As if he could read the puzzling doubts plaguing her very mind, Kylo swept a calming thumb across the deep “v” between Rey’s brows. “My lady, my love, I see the questions churning in your eyes. Do not doubt me. I know what I want.” Swallowing thickly, Kylo cleared his throat as if he needed to reach down and muster every ounce of strength. “There is nothing for me here. No joy, no future worth having without you. My past is pain, and my future will follow the same path if I remain here. It’s time to let the past go; I’ll kill it if I have to.” _

_ He nodded, gaining conviction as he continued. “I’ve watched you for weeks, and from the first moment my eyes fell on you, I felt the string between our two hearts pull taut. I cannot sleep for thoughts of you. I cannot rest without you by my side. There is no peace for me, my lady. There is only _ you _ .” _

_ Rey’s eyes filled, a single hot, salty tear slipping down her cheek as she stared up at him, amazed and suddenly, inexplicably unafraid. Every single word Kylo uttered mirrored the silent thoughts of her own heart, too afraid until now to be spoken aloud. _

_ “Captain,” Rey exhaled, “you speak the truth of my soul.” At her words, Kylo closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging in relief as a genuine smile tugged at his lips. _

_ She’d never seen a more beautiful sight. _

_ “Then you’ll have me?” he rasped, pressing his forehead against hers, his massive palm cupping the back of her head, holding her like a baby bird. _

_ “Only if you’ll have _ me _ ,” she replied, fighting a grin. _

_ “Nothing would bring me more joy, my lady.” He pressed one more kiss against her forehead, this one firm and knowing, the wax seal on a secret missive. “I know someone who can help us. Tomorrow, we will be wed.” _

The memories rolled onward, like a stage play in Rey’s mind as her fever-state ebbed and flowed. Her brow beaded with sweat, and Finn—true to his word—remained by her side as she slept fitfully, dabbing the perspiration away with a damp cloth. 

She had no concept of the words that slipped from her as she dozed under the influence of the herbs in Luke’s salve traveling through her bloodstream. When her gaze managed to focus, Rey saw the soft expression in Finn’s eyes as he watched her rest fitfully in the dim firelight, the only witness to the escaped words and murmured phrases of her delirium. 

_ You may… beloved… only you... _

Rey trembled, on the edge of sleep. Finn pulled the woolen blanket up higher, tucking the edges under her shoulders. “Rest, little Rebel,” Finn whispered, a wistful smile on his lips as she began to speak once more in her sleep. 

“Behold my oath,” she murmured, a tiny smile twitching at her fevered lips.

_ “Behold my oath that never will I have anyone as my husband except you,” _ _ Rey affirmed, stating her vow as the monk—Luke, Kylo had called him—repeated the question he’d asked her to Kylo, her smaller hands engulfed in his as they faced each other in the candlelight of the otherwise silent catacombs beneath Acqua’s massive cathedral. _

_ Rey’s eyes met Kylo’s, his gaze solid and sure as he held hers and repeated the words the monk had spoken. “Behold my oath that I will take no one as my wife except you,” he vowed. _

_ “You are now faithfully conjoined as husband and wife,” Luke said as he draped a red silk ribbon over Rey’s and Kylo’s clasped hands. He wrapped the loose ends, and tied a knot beneath as he spoke. “By your words and your vows, each other you shall have and hold until the end of your lives, as witnessed by God almighty. Amen.” _

_ Kylo’s hands squeezed Rey’s as she grinned up at him, all uncertainty replaced by a complete faith in the inevitability of their meeting and joining as husband and wife. Her golden eyes danced in the dim light of the candle, its wax dripping as Luke turned and slowly guided their way toward the corridor that would lead them out of the cold stone chamber in which they’d met in secret. _

_ “My wife, follow me,” Kylo whispered, his grip on her hand firm as they emerged beneath the starlit sky, the autumn moon hanging bright and full and low on the horizon. In front of them, Luke blew out the single candle and disappeared into the dark without a word, his brownish gray garb fading from Rey’s eyesight like the last, swift rays of sunset. _

_ Silently, she followed her husband as the sweet smell of overgrown grass holding on to the last vistages of summer flooded her nostrils. Her boots crunched in the gravel until silence once again overtook them as Kylo led her off the pathway and into the grass, marching her toward a small stone shed at the eastern edge of the cathedral’s main property. _

_ He pushed open a heavy door and ushered Rey inside, closing the door and locking it behind her with a thick slide of iron. “What is this place?” she wondered aloud, no more than a hushed whisper as they stood in the dark, the light of the moon shining in through the single window. _

_ “It’s an old groundskeeper’s cottage,” Kylo replied softly. “They are no longer used.” He released a long, uneven breath. “It pains me to spend our wedding night in the dark, hiding like fugitives, when you should be bathed in every luxury, my beautiful wife.” _

_ “Kylo,” Rey sighed, “I need no luxuries. I need only you.” She waited until his eyes met hers in the moonlight. “Husband,” she said, letting the weight of the word and all its implications settle over the two of them like a warm summer’s wind. _

_ His hands came up to rest on both her cheeks, his grasp on her timid and tender as he bent his knees, bringing his eyes directly in front of hers. “Tonight, I make you mine. I give myself to you, body and soul. My very heart rests in your hands for all eternity.” _

_ Rey reached up and placed her open palms on the outside of Kylo’s gloved hands. Gently, she guided his arms down to hang limply by his side. He lifted to his full height, mesmerized by her nymph-like movements in the moonlight as she unlaced the bodice of her dress. Without preamble or shyness, Rey let the heavy material fall to the wooden floor of the shed. She stood in her boots, not a single other stitch of material on her body as she reached and unclasped her hair, letting the chestnut tresses tumble past her shoulders and cover the pert breasts now bared to him. _

_ She leaned over and unfastened her boots, tugging one foot free, then the other. Lastly, she rolled down her woolen stockings, kicking them away before returning to her full height, her stance regal despite her diminutive size compared to the man who loomed, awe-struck, before her. _

_ “Rey,” he breathed, her name a prayer on his lips. She took a step closer, eliminating the little distance that separated them in the small space. _

_ “Yes?” she asked, equally breathless. _

_ “You’re...” he paused, shaking his head slightly. “You’re a vision. And I find myself a man without words.” _

_ Smiling, Rey reached for Kylo’s left hand. Both of her hands wrapped around his, the weight and heft of his arm solid and comforting as she lifted it. Kylo held his arm aloft for her as she began to peel the glove from his fingers, pinching the tip of the leather at each fingertip to loosen it. When she reached his pinky, the glove slipped free. Rey let it drop to the floor unceremoniously as her bare fingers touched his for the first time. _

_ His skin, warm and calloused, sent a shiver down her spine as she rubbed her thumb along his knuckles and then the fleshy part of his palm. Kylo moaned, his breath hitching as he inhaled. Without a word, Rey lifted his hand and guided his palm to rest atop her bare right breast, his fingers twitching as they came in contact with the soft mound of flesh. _

_ “Good Lord,” Kylo gasped, his eyelids flickering shut as timid fingers flexed and contracted over her soft skin. When his thumb passed over her pebbled nipple, it was Rey’s turn to gasp. _

_ “Your skin is like fire against me, husband,” Rey whispered, arching her back as she pressed herself into his palm, his fingers growing more adventuresome and confident at her reaction. _

_ “It is only because I burn for you, wife.” _

_ And no sooner were the words out of Kylo’s mouth than his remaining gloved hand pressed against his lips, his teeth working at the leather tips with a tenacity of a bulldog until he could wrench the offending material free. The glove fell to the ground, joining its twin, as his now bare hand engulfed Rey’s other breast, mimicking his motions on the opposite side. _

_ It was as if a direct line of desire shot from Rey’s straining nipples straight between her legs as a heavy, empty sensation throbbed within her. Her body ached for something she could not name, and yet her mind envisioned the same red ribbon with which they’d hand-fasted spooling from her ribcage to the very core of her being. _

_ Red with desire, passion. A wanting so deep and profound that it existed in a time without name. _

_ In seconds, Kylo’s mouth was once again on hers, the smell of leather and woodsmoke soothing her soul even as her body took to flame. She reached her arms and encircled his neck, clinging to him as his hands became trapped against her breasts as she pushed against his chest. Her husband wrested his mouth away from hers, panting as if the separation itself was a Herculean feat. _

_ “Get on the bed,” he commanded. His voice was kind but it was an order all the same. _

_ Rey’s eyes hadn’t even spied a bed when they’d first entered the shack, but Kylo’s massive hands slipped from her breasts to her waist, and gently guided her to the left. She stepped, cautious but determined, but a few paces until she felt the linen casing filled with bedstraw that comprised the mattress. She turned and sat down, the hulking figure of her imposing husband no more than a dark silhouette in the light coming in from the window behind him. _

_ She watched as he unfastened his cape from his shoulders. It dropped with a soft swoosh to the wooden boards at his feet. Leaning over, balancing on one foot, he pulled off his tall boots. As Kylo disrobed, his eyes never left Rey’s face. Next, he loosened his belt, then his woolen tunic and trousers, and lastly his linen under garment. Kylo stood bare, his broad shoulders rising with his breath in the moonlight. _

_ Rey lifted her hand, reaching toward him. “Come here, husband,” she beseeched. Her tone left no room for argument—a command as much as his direction to her had been. _

_ Kylo obeyed her, coming to stand before her, his manhood eager and proud as he hovered between her knees. Rey ran her hands along his ribcage, feeling the hot, smooth skin of his torso beneath her palms. Her fingertips glanced over his chest, his nipples straining for her touch as much as hers now did. Finally, her unsure hands slid through the fine trail of hair leading to the very essence of him, now bouncing and twitching right in front of her face as she finally grasped him by the root, pressing a tender kiss to the velvety skin on the underside of his member. _

_ Hissing, Kylo placed his colossal palms on shoulders to guide her onto her back. He bent over her, following her down onto the mattress, pressing his mouth against the column of her throat. His lips danced across her skin, his tongue darting out to lick and suckle at her like a starving man devouring his first meal. Teeth nipped at her collarbone, the day’s stubble scratched along her chest and ribcage as his palms slid from her shoulders to her thighs, where they rubbed her skin in hot passes. _

_ Every touch set her body aflame. _

_ And yet Kylo’s efforts were relentless. He pursued every inch of her body like it was his life’s mission, sinking lower and lower with each pass of his lips until her legs hung, trembling and needy, off the edge of the mattress, while he sank to his knees, his head right at the very center of her. _

_ “I think it is I who now burns for you, my Captain,” Rey admitted, breathless as she stared down at him in the darkness. _

_ “Let me dampen your fire,” Kylo whispered, his nose pressing into the dark curls at her core. She gasped, feeling the heat of his breath on her most sensitive skin. _

_ And after that, when Kylo whispered, “My love,” and began to explore her body with his tongue, Rey couldn’t wonder at the pleasure her body was feeling, or think, or do anything at all but _ feel _ the way he worshiped her. She mewled like a kitten as her legs quivered, her body shaking with need and relief all at once, a sensation of breaking apart and soaring and mending herself whole overtook her, blinding her in white light. _

_ Kylo’s head slid up her body, his lips trailing wet along her trembling belly, as he worked his way toward her mouth once again. His mouth found hers, and Rey was mesmerized by the sweet tang on his tongue. The taste made her moan, suddenly wanton and needful despite having just been satisfied moments before. _

_ “My fire still burns, husband,” Rey murmured as she lifted her chin, exposing her neck and arching her breasts up against the heat of Kylo’s bare chest. _

_ Kylo slid a colossal arm beneath her torso and shifted her up on the bed, making room for himself to join her. He climbed up her body as his hands slid down her ribcage, fingertips slipping between her legs, gathering the pool of wetness there. _

_ “And yet it seems I have succeeded in making you quite damp, my darling.” _

_ Rey could hear the smile in his words. Despite their naughtiness, she laughed. “Indeed.” _

_ She lifted her head, seeking his kiss. Their mouths met, and Kylo sank lower, bracing his weight on his forearms where they rested on either side of her forehead. “Make me yours,” she whispered as she reached down and pressed the hot, hard length of him at her entrance. _

_ Gently, Kylo pushed forward, rocking against her past any resistance until he sheathed himself completely within Rey’s heat. She felt a pinch, then full and complete and utterly blissful as she wrapped her arms around his back. Beneath her fingers, Kylo’s rib cage expanded with every breath. _

_ “Oh…” Kylo stilled and sighed into the shell of her ear, his voice a shaky whisper. “I am astounded.” _

_ Rey rubbed his back, long soothing motions up and down the planes of his shoulders as she spread her thighs wider and tucked her legs around him, as if she could pull him deeper. “Husband, you are now and forever inside me.” _

_ At her words, Kylo stirred, his hips once again finding an ancient rhythm. It wasn’t long before the feel of him working above had Rey once again teetering on the edge, her body singing for him as he chased his own completion. With a stutter and a gasp, Kylo buried himself in her heat, spilling his seed with a deep, throaty groan against Rey’s neck. _

_ Above her, the giant hulk of a man trembled and shook, his skin vibrating like the strings of a lute beneath her palms. “Shhh,” she soothed. “It’s alright, my love,” _

_ Breathing heavily, Kylo slid from the cradle of her thighs and turned, flopping down beside Rey on the mediocre mattress. One hand fell to his chest, as if he needed to contain the frantic beating of his own heart, while the other slid beneath her shoulders and pulled her flush against him. _

_ “Three days,” he said with a sigh, turning to press a shaky kiss to her damp forehead. _

_ Rey turned and snuggled into her husband’s chest. She winced as a tender ache announced itself between her thighs “What do you mean?” she asked, pressing a kiss to his chest in return. _

_ “In three days, we ride for Chateau la Sable at dawn. In three days, my wife, we shall be free.” _

* * *

Rey opened her eyes to a roaring fire. She turned her head to see the young man had fallen asleep sitting up beside her makeshift operating table, his chin cradled in his hand. A little dribble of drool caught in his full lips and shined in the firelight. Rey smiled and subconsciously shifted toward her side, gasping when she realized such a movement might risk utter pain.

Yet, no pain came. 

The salve had worked. Gingerly, she pressed herself up to a sit, taking the woolen blanket at her neck and tucking it beneath her shoulders to keep her covered. She sighed, bits and pieces of her drug-induced dreams dancing in her mind. 

“You’re awake!” Finn gasped, jerking upward. “You should lie down, my lady!”

Rey smiled, tilting her head at the young man’s obvious distress over her well-being. “Finn, I know I was halfway out of it, but I feel as though we have gone over this before: you may simply call me ‘Rey.’”

“Rey,” Finn said with a nod, coming to a stand with a very stern look on his face, “you should lie back down.”

“I’m feeling much better,” Rey announced, swinging her legs and giving her torso a little twist, all the while holding her blanket up to keep her modest. “See?”

Finn’s brows furrowed. “I do see,” he replied, his gaze softening. “I think you had a much needed walk down memory lane, my… Rey.”

She startled, wondering how much of the fugue-like memory dream her sleeping self had shared. “I think you might be right,” she said softly, her thumb and forefinger rubbing the hem of the rough wool at her chest. “Did I…” she paused and cleared her throat, feeling heat on her cheeks. “Did I talk in my sleep?”

Now, it was Finn’s turn to blush. “Only a little,” he admitted with a shrug.

Rey could tell Finn wasn’t being truthful. “Only a little?” she asked, raising a brow.

“Okay, well… maybe a decent amount. But nothing untoward, my lady,” he clarified, eyes wide as if she might have offended his sensibilities. “I got the sense you and the Captain were… _ are _… very much in love.”

Rey smiled. “Yes,” Rey agreed simply. “Falling in love with and marrying Kylo were the highlights of my life.” Finn nodded, smiling gently. Rey shook her head, feeling anger surge beneath her breasts. Her voice shook with emotion as she spoke. “And Snoke’s betrayal of us remains the blackened abyss I will fight to overcome with whatever life I have left.”

Finn stood and retrieved another woolen blanket from a basket at the hearth. He opened it wide and handed it to Rey. Silently, she slid the warm material over her shoulders like a cloak, covering herself more fully. 

“Tell me about the curse?” Finn asked, glancing up at her with timid eyes.

She was silent for a long moment. Rey herself wasn’t even sure if she could bear the retelling of the story, painful as it was. Yet, it was the memories of the good things Rey had been forced to cling to these long five years, and she’d be damned to Hell if she didn’t force herself to hold on to them with all her might. If they never found a way to escape the curse, these memories were all she’d ever have of her love. 

“We… Kylo and I…” Rey began, her tone hesitant as she tried to find a way to good starting place. Where does one begin when trying to explain an evil curse, born of hatred and loathing over the purest of all emotions? “We fell in love.”

Finn gave Rey a discerning smile. “Yes, of that I am aware.”

Rey huffed out a laugh at his smart reply, her awkwardness washing away with the breath as it left her body. “We declared our love for one another in one of the Bishop’s gardens. It was there that we shared our first kiss.” Rey’s eyes lost focus as she stared into the fire, a sad smile gracing her lips. “We thought we were alone. We were wrong.”

“You were seen?” Finn asked, brows raising to his hairline. “By the Bishop Snoke himself?”

Rey’s head hung, her chin touching her chest as her eyes squeezed shut. “We were fools. We should have known he’d have eyes everywhere; spies and informants at every corner of Acqua.” She blinked her eyes open, shaking her head. “But we were blinded by love, and mesmerized by one another’s presence. When we kissed, we had no idea the Bishop observed us from the northern balcony. And we certainly had no idea what would come after as a result of our indiscretion.”

“Or mine.”

The voice from the other side of the room was haggard and gruff. Rey turned to find Luke, his shoulders curled in on himself in shame, standing in the kitchen doorway. Her eyes found his and she released a long sigh. 

“No, I suppose we all made some errors in judgment back then,” she said quietly. 

Luke stepped inside the kitchen, walking very slowly toward the massive table to join Rey and Finn on a tall stool. He handed Rey a steaming mug of something she thought smelled distinctly of bark, but she sipped at it, anyway. The warm brew traveled down her throat, warming her belly. 

“The next day, after the kiss, I was summoned to see the Bishop,” Rey continued, focusing her attention back on Finn. After all, Luke knew all too well what happened next in this tragic story. “I was scared; in all the weeks I’d been studying at Acqua, I had never before been sought for his audience alone. I entered his private living quarters, shaking like a leaf. When the guard closed the door behind me, my stomach roiled.

He declared that both he and God had witnessed my sin in the water garden, and there was but one way to repent: I could marry him, and the good Lord would forgive me my trespass.” Rey’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “I told him I did not think a Bishop could properly marry. He replied by laughing in my face as I stepped closer.” Rey’s eyes closed and a look of fear overcame her expression, like a child retelling a nightmare. “He reached over and brushed a bony finger down my cheek, trailing much too low toward my breast to be decent. He laughed darkly and said ‘I can do whatever I want, child.’” 

Shivering at the memory, Rey took a sip of her brew, stealing herself to continue. “That is not true,” Finn said, his eyes wide in horror. 

Rey’s golden eyes met Finn’s shocked ones. “You and I know that. But he thinks he is beyond reproach. A heavenly supreme leader on Earth,” she spat.

“Rey, my dear,” Luke interrupted, raising a hand to get her attention. “Please, stay calm. I don’t want you to upset yourself in your recovering state.”

She snorted. “Well, it’s a little too late for that, isn’t it?”

Guilt-laden, Luke pinched his lips closed and lowered his bright blue eyes to his hands, waiting patiently for Rey to continue.

“When I denied Snoke my affections, he dismissed me with a vicious rage. He insisted he would get his way, that I would eventually collapse under the pressure of his proposal. He…” Rey paused, eyes filling with tears, “he led me to believe he would hurt the people I cared about. And since I had no family left, I knew he could only have been threatening Kylo.”

Luke passed Rey a clean piece of linen to wipe her eyes and nose. “It was that very night that I led Rey and Kylo down to the catacombs to secretly perform their wedding,” Luke said, picking up the story for Finn’s benefit while Rey sniffled. “Kylo had come to me and asked for my help. I’d known him since he was a little boy, long before his parents died and he had nothing else but Snoke’s meager grace to keep him alive.”

“Wait,” Finn interrupted, “you’ve known the Captain since he was a child?”

“Of course,” Luke replied, sadness filling his expression, aging him before Rey’s very eyes. “I’m his uncle.”

Finn blinked in shock. “I did not see that one coming.”

“I was as deep in my cups then as I am now,” Luke continued, the dark stain of regret coloring his words, and the day after the wedding, the Bishop came to the library where I transcribed ancient texts in search of a book of Dark Magick, nothing a God-fearing Bishop should ever desire.

When I asked him what he could possibly need such a thing for, Snoke sneered at me and let forth a spew of angry words, saying he wanted to damn the Captain of his Guard to eternity. Of course,” Luke said, looking at Finn, “I knew he spoke of Kylo, and I knew his ire was over the fact that Kylo held the key to Rey’s heart.”

“But the Bishop didn’t know we’d been married,” Rey interjected.

Luke huffed a bitter laugh. “No, not yet. He didn’t know that until I drunkenly announced that any damnation the Bishop could come up with was too late, because Rey and Kylo had already been married.”

“It set Snoke into a bitter, jealous rage,” Rey explained. “I’m lucky he didn’t have Kylo killed to spite me,” she said, a shudder wracking her spine at the despairing thought. 

“He started ripping books from the shelves, invaluable texts and scrolls going back millennia,” Luke stated, biting his lip in shame. “So many irreplaceable manuscripts destroyed in the blink of his evil eye…” he muttered, shaking his head. “And then, in a voice so sinister, I remain convinced he summoned the Prince of Darkness himself, he cried, ‘If I cannot have her, no man shall!

“It was then that my quivering eyes caught sight of the ancient leather-bound book beneath the Bishop’s arm, pressed against his golden robes, nearly hidden in their layers.”

Rey reached over and placed her palm on Luke’s forearm, his body trembling even now with the memory of what he witnessed that day in the cathedral’s library. Luke’s watery blue eyes lifted and met Rey’s steady gaze—her kind touch giving him the forgiveness she knew he could never accept, despite her offering it year after year. 

“And then Snoke found Kylo and me. We had but one more sunrise to witness in Acqua before we planned to leave for my Chateau. We were so close to freedom…” Rey mourned, her voice changing as her throat tightened around unshed tears. “But he found us both in the Great Hall, listening to the lyre along with dozens of the Bishops’ other guests before our evening meal. He lifted the ancient spellbook, and in a thunderous voice, he spoke in a tongue I shall never forget, the sounds slithering and perilous as they spilled from his lips like poison.”

As Rey’s voice grew thin and her eyes filled with unshed tears, Luke continued on. “The Bishop went mad. He took that spell book and spat a curse, relishing in the anguish the young lovers would feel at each sunrise and sunset, where they miss each other by moments, again and again... For as long as there is day and night.”

“When he at last yelled the curse, our fate was sealed,” Rey said, shaking her head sadly at the memory. “I will never forget that monster’s face as he shouted, ‘Despite always being together, you shall eternally be apart!’

“Kylo and I looked at each other, horrified. When nothing immediately happened, we thought perhaps the Bishop was just crazed. But the minute the sun sank below the horizon, Kylo was lost to me. Instead, a giant black wolf appeared in the courtyard, its eyes locked on me as its mournful howl pierced my heart like an arrow. The creature then disappeared like a spectre into the woods, and in that moment, I knew what had happened.”

“We’d been cursed, and my husband was a wolf.” Rey stated, monotone as if she had to protect herself even by saying the words aloud. Finally, the dam broke in full, and she sobbed as she continued on, explaining to Finn the horror of her next discovery. “I had no idea that by the time dawn came, my bones would fold in on themselves as my body morphed into that of a great Peregrine Falcon, crying into the sky just as my love began to emerge from his nightly prison of black fur.”

Finn sat, his jaw agape, the fire now burning low in the heart. “Good Lord,” he murmured, tears filling his dark eyes. 

“Yes, the Lord is good,” Luke stated, his voice growing strong. “And that is why I have pored over each word of every ancient text I can find in order to bring Rey and Kylo out of the darkness that plagues them. And,” he said, pausing dramatically as he met Rey’s gaze, “Lady Rey, I think I may have found it.”

She blinked her teary eyes at the old man. “What do you mean?”

As the words slipped from Rey’s mouth, her eyes wide and hopeful, Luke’s excitement drained from his face as anguish overtook his features. Rey turned and followed the man’s gaze out the open doorway just in time to see the first light of sunrise peek over the horizon. 

“What do you mean?!” she repeated, panicked, her last word turning to a shriek as before the men’s very eyes, Rey morphed into her falcon form and flew out into the lightening sky of morning. 

Finn looked to Luke. “What do we need to do?”

“Well,” Luke said with a considering nod, “first we need to convince Kylo.”

* * *

She took flight, her broad wingspan giving her immediate lift as she soared into the cool skies of early morning. Though she cursed the spell that bound her, she couldn’t help but take some joy in the unparalleled agility and speed with which she moved through the sky.

She was _ fast _.

Peregrine falcons like her were known for their speed. She was a natural hunter, but despite her hawk’s eyesight, it was still a challenge for her keen eyes to make out the fine details of Kylo’s features. From the sky, as she swooped to land, he was no more than a black blob morphing into the shape of a human as she approached his outstretched hand. 

Even when she turned to glance at his face, the position of her eyes which made her an agile huntress, also made it difficult to focus on any one aspect of his appearance. It was only in her memory that she could recall the constellation of moles on her husband’s pale skin, his warm dark eyes, his luxurious raven hair… his breathtakingly beautiful smile. 

Her claws clamped down on Kylo’s gloved hand, every fiber of her being wishing it was her human hand grasping the warmth of his once more.

The men sat by the outside fire. She could tell from the tension hanging in the air that the conversation she’d just interrupted was a serious one. What was it they’d spoken of with her right before the dawn again?

In avian form, Rey’s brain worked differently. Her mind was like a jigsaw puzzle. Half spent hours trying to desperately make sense of what was going on around her while the other half of her operated on a falcon’s pure instinct: hunt, speed, survival. A constant battle waged in her bird’s mind, making her so very tired.

It was early yet, not long since the dawn and her forced change, and Rey hoped she might be able to decipher some of what Luke, Finn, and Kylo were discussing before her ability to focus on human conversation slipped from her capabilities like sand through an open hand. She cocked her head and listened to their voices as they echoed over the snap and crackle of the fire. 

“I’m telling you, Kylo, I’ve found a way. I know how to break the curse!”

“I don’t believe you, old man. But tell me, anyway.”

That was Kylo’s voice, Rey knew. She recognized its deep timber and the way it vibrated between her fragile, hollow ear bones. 

“The solution is ‘a day without night, a night without day.’ If we can get you both to the cathedral at the exact right time—”

“You’re mad,” Kylo interrupted, his tone scathing. It made Rey’s fine white under-feathers ruffle with anxiousness. “You’re nothing but an old drunk, speaking nonsense. Do you even hear yourself?”

“Captain, sir, if you’d just seen Lady Rey’s hopeful expression at the thought—”

Again, Kylo interrupted, and this time his temperamental response was directed at Finn. “I said no. Our plan stands.” There was a long pause as the other men sat in quiet contemplation. Rey could sense the frustration hanging in the air like an impending rain storm. 

“We rest here and let Rey recover one more night. Afterward, we travel onward to Acqua. And _ then _ I will kill Snoke for what he’s done to her, to me… to each of us.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading -- I love that you all LOVE Ladyhawke and remember it as fondly as I do! xo


	3. Part Three: The Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our falcon and wolf find themselves in a desperate battle, fighting against all odds. Luckily, they've got a thief and a hermit on their side.

** **

**PART THREE: THE WOLF**

The day at the decrepit monastery passed slowly, mostly because Kylo was riddled with guilt over Rey’s injury. Maybe he’d made the wrong choice, keeping to the valley as they’d traveled. Despite his intentions to ensure Rey could hunt easily and they’d all have access to fresh water, his choice had left them dangerously exposed. 

“Damn it!” he hissed to himself, staring at the remnants of last night’s fire. Luke and Finn had taken their leave to go seek rest inside the structure’s ancient stone walls, but Kylo had refused to leave the outside fire pit until he spotted Rey flying back. 

He’d whistled for her several times since sunrise, and had not seen even the hint of feather from her. His heart thumped in his chest like an anvil, bitter bile churning on his empty stomach. Kylo didn’t even remember the last time he’d eaten; his last meal was likely when he broke fast the morning of the ambush. On cue, his stomach rumbled with an echoing howl. 

Kylo sighed, remembering the hare he’d hunted, long since gone bad and discarded as he had fled the river valley for the high ground, praying to the Lord that his precious Reyna would make it in Finn’s safekeeping to Luke for aid. The old man certainly owed her that. 

He owed them _ both _ that.

With his head in his hands and the sun rising higher in the noon sky, Kylo’s eyelids drooped. Sweat beaded under the thick layers of his uniform, beads of moisture dripping between his shoulder blades. He swiped a thick hand across his brow and squinted to the east. 

“Damn it all to Hell, where  _ is  _ she?” 

The words tumbled from his lips like water down a mountainside brook—icy, fierce, unstoppable. Kylo was on the verge of shooting to his feet, his nerves making him unable to sit by and await Rey’s return for one moment longer, when from the piercing blue afternoon skies came a strident shriek, at once both overhead and all around as the sound echoed off the monastery’s stone. Kylo’s empty stomach collapsed on itself, relief pressing him like a heavy weight onto the bench as he sucked in what felt like his first full breath in a day. 

“Oh, thank the Lord,” he whispered, his voice shaking with the brief moment of reprieve.

Without delay, the falcon came to a perch on Kylo’s thick, leather-clad shoulder. She fluttered her majestic wings and shifted her weight on her legs, flexing her claws. Kylo felt the gaze of her unblinking eye and felt the guilt wash over him once more. 

“Oh, my love,” he sighed, shutting his eyes tight as a wave of regret washed over him. “Forgive me.”

The bird cocked her head to the side and kept her gaze steady for long moments before finally blinking and turning to face forward once more, as if dismissing him. Kylo brought a shaking hand to the downy plumage at her crown and rubbed his knuckle, barely touching, across the feathers. 

“You came back to me.”

With Rey back safe, her wound well-healed and barely visible beneath her feathered breast, Kylo felt he could finally assuage his body’s demands and find himself something to eat. He stood on shaking legs and carried his massive, drained body toward the cool shade of the building, left to ruin decades ago. 

Luke certainly hadn’t done much to aid its appearances. 

“She’s back?” Finn asked excitedly as he bounded into the kitchen, eyes wide in wonder at the grand bird holding court on Kylo’s shoulder. Hearing another voice in his presence after so many hours of solitude startled him, but the pure joy and relief in Finn’s tone reassured Kylo that he had made the right decision in sending Rey with Finn to seek Luke for help. It had nearly killed him to separate himself from her, but the sacrifice had been worth it. 

She’d recover, and she would live, and that was all that mattered.

“Indeed,” he said, dipping his chin in acknowledgment. 

Finn’s face lit, bright as a festival in the King’s court. “I knew she would return to us!” he exclaimed, his eyes soft with wonder as they settled on the bird’s form. 

“And it seems I owe you a debt of gratitude, little mouse,” Kylo continued. 

“Me?” Finn questioned, a deep furrow appearing between his dark brows. “What on earth for?”

“For getting her here. For keeping her safe.” Kylo paused, then added, his throat suddenly tight around a thick ball of emotion. “For saving her life.”

“Captain,” Finn began, shaking his head humbly, “it was nothing.”

“On the contrary,” Kylo contested. “It was  _ everything. _ ” He swallowed hard as his gaze shifted to dusty floor of the ancient kitchen. He wondered if Finn would recognize it as his one and only guilt-ridden tell. “I take it you now understand what is happening here?” He asked, looking pointedly to the bird at his shoulder and back at Finn. 

“I do not think I would believe it had I not seen it with my own two eyes, Captain.”

Kylo nodded, a sad acceptance of the truth of the other man’s statement. “It is impossible to believe otherwise, I have found.”

The silence stretched between them. “Captain,” Finn began, wincing awkwardly, “I… I wish you had been the one to tell me.”

Kylo’s lips pursed tight before he exhaled slowly. “I wish I had.” His tone made it clear it was the only admission Finn was likely to receive. Finn nodded, seeming to understand the concession was a rarity. 

“So… what’s next?” Finn asked, a single dark brow raised. 

Kylo shot him a wry smile as he ripped off a hunk of bread from a basket on the countertop. “After I finally eat something, you mean?” he asked before shoving a piece in his mouth, his mouth immediately flooding with saliva as his body instinctively reacted to the long overdue nourishment. 

“Of course,” Finn agreed jovially, going to the opposite counter and fetching a bowl of apples and dried meats wrapped inside a cloth napkin. “Here,” the younger man said, shoving the food toward him. “And I know where the old man keeps the ale,” he added before darting over to a cabinet and retrieving both a pewter pitcher and a wobbly, uneven cup.

Kylo swallowed, then looked Finn in his dark brown eyes. He couldn’t tell which quality resonated more powerfully in the young man’s character: his exceptional ingenuity or his unparalleled kindness. 

“Thank you,” he said, speaking the two words slowly, lacing them with their full meaning. 

Finn’s lips twitched before pulling into a joyful grin that reached the very corners of his eyes. “‘Twas my pleasure, Captain.” Then, the young man’s smile turned mischievous as he rubbed his palms together in greedy anticipation. “So… when do we leave to help the Bishop find his rightful place in Hell?”

A chuckle slipped through Kylo’s lips, even as his mouth was full of another bite of bread. “You seem to have had a change of heart, my young friend.”

Nodding, Finn raised his brows, holding his palms wide as if Kylo gave voice to the obvious. “How could I stand idly by and let an evil man like Snoke pretend at playing God?” Finn’s expression shifted to one of disgust, a hint of sneer making him suddenly appear years older then Kylo suspected he truly was. “He is  _ not _ God. And the way he brandishes rule over Acqua is far from Godly.” Finn paused, his countenance shifting yet again as his words took on a contemplative tone. “It is high time the city be freed from the Bishop’s nefarious grasp. Despite the sins required of me in order to help make that happen, I enter into those infernal gates again freely if it means true virtue can be restored. I shall spend the rest of my life atoning, but never once will I regret doing what I know in my heart to be right and just.”

Kylo swallowed his bite and looked at the man across from him with what could only be an expression of impressed awe. This little mouse had the bravery of a lion. “You have my unyielding respect, Finn Storm.”

They spent the next several minutes discussing their plan, Finn speaking most of the time while Kylo ate as he recounted his liberation as a prisoner from Acqua’s dungeons less than a week earlier. “The sewers were a mess, nearly every channel was flooded as I made my escape—” Finn stopped abruptly, cocking his head to the side in thought, brows furrowed as he lifted his forefinger to the sky as if to stop his own words. “Just a moment. How were the catacombs not flooded with sewer water?”

“The catacombs?” Kylo asked, confused by the man’s non sequitur. 

Finn nodded as if to catch Kylo up on the obvious. “Yes, the catacombs. Where Luke took you and Rey to marry you?”

Kylo’s jaw went slack. Hearing the secret words spoken aloud after all this time sent a flare of panic through his chest, despite the fact there was no one who could harm them now. “You know about that?”

“Yes,” Finn hesitated, his eyes going wide as he appeared to realize that perhaps he had revealed something he should not have. “Rey told me.”

Slowly, Kylo set down the piece of dried meat he had been about to eat. He tilted his head, taking in Finn’s anxious expression. He had no doubt Finn knew much more than the benign information he had just admitted to having. “And what else did she tell you?”

Finn’s cheeks flamed as he flicked his eyes away. “N-nothing much else,” he squeaked. 

Flexing his jaw, Kylo felt his nostrils flare at the other man’s stupidity. Why lie? Had they not exceeded the point in their acquaintance—and dare Kylo think it, but—had they not already become  _ almost _ friends? There was no one else remaining in Kylo’s half-human world he could possibly consider giving such a label to. Wounded offense, an emotion practically foreign to the man, simmered beneath the surface like sulphur. 

He shoved the emotion away, replacing it with a much more familiar flash of anger, and fixed his dark, unwavering stare at Finn. “Tell me, little mouse, or I shall string you by your tail!”

  
Finn stood so abruptly that his wooden stool wavered and nearly tipped, if not for Kylo’s quick reflexes which allowed his paw-like hand to grasp and steady it as the younger man stepped away protectively, the whites of his eyes like saucers. Kylo swore he could see a fine sheen of sweat dusting the thief’s dark brows.

Finn wrang his hands together as he next spoke. “It is not what she chose to tell me, Captain, but more of what she said in her drug-induced dream state.”

Kylo’s brows raised, impatient. “And?” he prompted.

“And the truth is, even in her haze, all she did was talk about you!” 

“Oh young man… how I envy you,” Kylo said, his words quiet and filled to brimming with an unstoppable pain. “Tell me what she spoke of.  _ Tell me _ .”

“Well, sir, it seemed she dreamed… of the two of you...” he paused, clearing his throat, and Kylo watched the flames like the other man’s dark skin, turning him russet. “Together. Intimately,” he finished, lowering his gaze to the dust-covered floor, sheepish. 

Inside, a laugh longed to burst from Kylo’s lungs. Did the boy not think a man and wife would share a bed? Could he be so sheltered to be embarrassed by such an obvious course of events? 

Kylo buried a smirk as he prodded, “Did she, now?” It seemed Finn could only nod in reply, his eyes still locked firmly on anything but Kylo. “And, did she seem… happy?”

Finn took a deep, steadying breath and finally looked up to meet Kylo’s intense stare. “She smiled in her sleep, Captain,” he replied softly, the sincerity of Finn’s words piercing Kylo’s breast the way the arrow had pierced his darling Rey’s. 

The pain of it was bittersweet, crippling and mobilizing all at once. To know his precious girl’s lips smiled at the memory of their too brief time together before the Bishop’s wicked alchemy cursed them to live these miserable, half-lives, well… that was almost enough to sustain Kylo through whatever came next on his vengeful journey.

Kylo swallowed, his throat tight and hot with a surge of fervor and despair in equal parts. “That’s… that’s good.” He was quiet for a moment before he added, his voice soft as he suddenly felt compelled to share his most treasured memories, as if speaking them aloud could make the dream-like recollections he clung to for the past five years more substantive. “We only had that one time,” he admitted. “The morning after, we had to separate and pretend as if nothing had changed. We were waiting until we could escape Acqua and journey back to Chateau la Sable.”

Sighing, Kylo rubbed his brow, then surreptitiously swiped his damp eye. “Well,” he sniffed, “I’m glad she remembers it well. I didn’t know if perhaps her mind would not work in the same way, or what memories might be trapped and caged as a result of Snoke’s curse. I know my mind works differently, when I change,” he said. “I remember certain things, can process some things, but others...” he paused, shrugging, “other things are lost to me.”

Finn approached the table again, adjusting the stool and sitting once more. “How does it work, Captain?” he asked, his expression earnest.

“Damned if I know,” Kylo muttered, shaking his head. Another flare of anger surged through him, but he tamped it down, realizing ire would not change a thing about his current predicament, but another soul’s understanding of his cursed experience just might. With a heavy sigh, for the first time in over five years, Kylo attempted to put words to a mystifying existence he could but barely fathom. 

“As dusk becomes night, the itching starts…” he began. “Imagine a horde of ants beneath the surface of your skin,” Kylo stated bluntly as he watched Finn grimace in response. “Then, within seconds, I feel as though every bone is breaking and turns to dust, flames licking me from the inside with a pain so fierce that for a fraction of a second every night, I simply wish to die if only to end the agony. But then it’s over as moments later, I am suddenly reformed, much closer to the ground, and four-legged. 

“In the wolf-state, I feel…” Kylo paused, grasping for a way to explain the animalistic swell of instinct that invaded each of his senses as soon as he morphed. “I feel…  _ sharp _ . My teeth, my claws, my sight. Everything feels crisp and balanced, as if on a knife’s edge. I feel the need to hunt, to prowl, to howl. And I feel unconditionally alone,” he admitted, his quiver in his voice giving far too much away about his emotional state. He sighed, shaking his head to clear it and refocus on the facts of his changed state. “I feel driven forward, as if marching toward something I cannot see, but I know is there. Perhaps it is just the moon?” Kylo mused, a wry smile tugging at his lips. 

Finn’s smile mirrored Kylo’s, his eyes alight with mirth. “It doesn’t sound all that different from your personality right now, Captain.”

* * *

As planned, they remained at the monastery through one more sunset and sunrise. As soon as Rey rejoined them in her falcon form, the three of them continued their trek back to Acqua. They had but a day and a half of travel before they would reach the city gates, and Kylo was thankful for the singular night their strange band would need to spend away from guaranteed safety. 

With the sun low and red in the sky, Kylo and Finn trotted their horses deeper into a small village along the main road. Rey had flown up ahead, and Kylo’s keen gaze kept watch on her as she waited unnoticed at the peak of a barn’s roof. A festival of some sort was already underway in the tavern across the pathway, and it seemed the entire town, as small as it was, celebrated jovially within. 

The smells of roasting meat, simmering stews, and fresh baked bread tempted the men’s senses, but they knew better than to dare steal a bite before sneaking into the unattended barn and securing shelter for the night. 

Kylo shut the barn door and ushered Finn toward the back corner of the barn, bales of hay and loose straw creating a golden nest as the last of the day’s light filtered in through the high windows. It was warm and dry, and with the hay-filled corner buried deep in the structure, Kylo felt relatively comfortable leaving Finn and Rey here for the night while he protectively prowled the surrounding woods.

Despite his general approval of their shelter, Kylo fixed a serious glare at Finn as he warned him, “Keep her safe, little mouse. Swear to it.”

Curiosity seemed to cloud the younger man’s expression as he blinked at Kylo before nodding. “Yes, of course.” He licked his lips and Kylo could not help but wonder if the gravity of the situation and the sheer responsibility placed on his shoulders alone for the next ten hours was finally setting in for the wily thief. “I swear.”

The falcon flew in through the open window, her wings batting smoothly as she swooped low and landed not on Kylo but on Finn’s shoulder. Kylo watched as the young man tensed, startled but not scared. A gentle smile pulled his lips. “Don’t dig a hole into my shoulder, now, my lady,” Finn murmured, lifting and lowering his shoulder awkwardly to try and shift the bird’s talon off the knobby bone beneath his thin layers of clothing. 

“It seems some leather garments may be in your future, Finn,” Kylo mused before schooling his expression once more. He began to back away toward the barn doors, nodding once solemnly at his companion. “Until dawn,” he said as he stepped through the heavy wooden door and disappeared into dusk.

The burning, melting sensation came to an abrupt and blessed stop and he was whole again, his eyesight sharp despite the newborn darkness covering the land like a thick blanket. Kylo panted heavily, recovering from the sudden, crippling pain of his nightly transformation. The food smells they had noticed upon entering the village now overtook his senses, his upine jaw clenched and back of his long throat filled with saliva as evidence of the tasty morsels just over the other side of the village. 

He knew the risk of letting himself be seen by the villagers, but his hunger from the journey and the emotional toil of the last several days was crippling. He could not deny his instinct to seek out the food and put an end to the roiling in his belly. With stealthy steps, he prowled quietly in the night, his dark fur indistinguishable in the low light. A chicken roasted on a spit several yards away as Kylo tucked his wolf form behind the side of a low building to lie in wait. 

Over the last five years, he had gotten very, very good at waiting. 

Hours later, with the cooked flesh of the chicken filling his insides, Kylo trotted through the woods along the village, not recalling what it was he was supposed to be doing, compelled to remain on the move nevertheless. The moon finally rose, now high in the sky, giving the darkened woods a silvery outline. His paws sank into the soft mud, the essence of earth and rain heavy in his snout as the smell of life wafted up from the forest floor.

Another aroma assaulted him, bringing him to a swift halt. This scent was nowhere near as favorable as the gentle whiffs of soil beneath his paws. Instead, he smelled a sharp, cloying odor—something unnatural which immediately sent his fur surging away from his skin in an electric bolt, like lightning.

Just a few feet away, an imposing figure loomed tall, stretching along the length of the tree trunks surrounding it. Hair so white it appeared nearly silver shined brightly beneath the moonlight. The huntress, decked in a thick cloak of black fur, sneered down at him, her eyes alight with the prospect of her catch.

Kylo’s wolf brain immediately took over as it instinctively calculated the exact moment it must break from its deathly still form and dart like an arrow deeper into the woods, seeking the cover of brush and trees. As soon as Kylo bolted, mind buried deep beneath his flight response, a single name resonated as he dashed between trees. His ears pricked at the crackling underbrush and heavy breathing—the sounds of the chase—as they echoed behind him.

_ Phasma. _

He weaved and parried for what felt like hours though likely it is no more than a few minutes. His heart was heavy, an anvil thumping within the cage of his ribs. Just as he was about to dart left toward the sound of a bubbling brook, violent pain consumes him as iron teeth dig into the skin of his hind leg, gipping the rear ankle bone. Kylo yelped, then howled in agony, his leg spasming with the pain. 

The jerking motion of his body somehow loosened the iron and pure relief floods him. The foot trap was poorly made, and instead of squeezing his bones like a vice, it slid to the muddy ground, leaving Kylo wounded but free. He scrambled up and continued toward the brook as the platinum-haired huntress roared her disbelief at his escape.

It took him several minutes to follow the water back toward the heart of the village. Bleeding and injured, his hind paw was unable to take the full weight of his body, but he pushed forward. He couldn’t remember why he must get closer to the village anymore; he ran on instinct and pure adrenaline as he hobbled three-legged toward where the brook emptied into the lake along the village outskirts. A sudden clang of thunder signalled an unexpected storm, and within moments, rain poured down in cold, heavy droplets all around him. 

Kylo was tired; his body began to tremble. He paused, lapping at the water’s edge, his thirst sudden and insatiable. His heart pounded erratically, his jaws hung loose as he panted in quick breaths. 

Gingerly, he stepped further into the lake, his animal impulses telling him to use the water to clean the wound now seeping blood in a steady flow from his hind leg. The black wolf hobbled out further into the cold water and the lakebed abruptly dropped off beneath him, sending Kylo into a deep pool of water. He instinctively began to paddle, but his body was weak with the loss of blood and an ineffective hind leg. 

Kylo struggled to keep his massive head above water as his thick coat of fur further weighed him down. He howled as he felt his body begin to weaken, too tired to struggle. Lids shuttered over dark, predatory eyes as he struggled for air, his snout just inches above the water’s surface. 

He sucked in drops of water from both the rain and the lake. He wheezed through his nostrils as his frantic attempts at paddling made the water churn around his skull.

Behind closed eyes, he could see only one image: a human woman, lit in silver beneath the light of another night’s moon, so very long ago. Even in the darkness, she was beauty and light; she smiled at him as her clothes fell from her form. 

The massive black wolf stopped fighting. 

His head slipped beneath the water’s surface. 

There is nothing but cold and quiet.

* * *

“Did you hear that?” Rey gasped as she bolted upright from her warm nest of blankets amid the piles of hay. 

Opposite her, Finn startled awake as well. “Hear what?” 

“A howl…” she began, as the warm color from sleep and safety drained from her face, leaving her white as a ghost. “A painful, pitiful howl.” Rey flung her blanket and cloak from her body, grabbing the latter as she moved like wildfire to the barn door. “It was Kylo, I know it!”

“My lady—Rey! Wait!” Finn called, scrabbling to stand and desperately attempting to keep up with her as she hefted the barn door open and stepped into the cold night air. “Wait,” he repeated again as his palm clutched the woman’s shoulder. He could feel her trembling beneath her garments. “We must be safe. _ I _ must keep you safe.” 

Rey shook her head as the moonlight made the tears pooling in her golden eyes glisten. “And  _ I  _ cannot stand idly by when he needs my help.”

Just then, a peal of thunder boomed overhead and the skies opened up with a steady downpour. Rey lifted her cloak and dashed toward the gravel road. Finn followed, lifting the woolen blanket he still clutched up over his head to shield him from the pelting rain. Rey paused, looking right then left, unsure of where to go, unsure of where Kylo could be. 

A bolt of lightning flashed and a menacing figure came into view, riding a giant horse from the south side of the village. As the figure approached, Rey and Finn could see it was a woman, her hair nearly white, her shoulders covered in thick black fur. Pelts of several different animals hung loosely from her saddle as she trotted closer in the autumn storm. She glared at them with a nasty sneer as she passed, otherwise not bothering to pay them an ounce of attention. Iron traps clanged as the horse passed, setting Rey’s hair on end.

Pelts. Iron.

A trapper!

“Let’s go!” Rey hissed as she yanked Finn’s arm and pulled him toward the south, aiming for the lake they’d passed on the way into town. Over the sound of falling rain, Rey was sure she heard yet another howl, this one long and steady, like a lonely ship on a darkened sea. She picked up the pace and ran as fast as her legs could carry her until her boots reached the water’s edge. Lightning flashed again, the light illuminating something struggling in the water as Rey’s heart skipped a few beats in sudden, chilling comprehension.

“Kylo!” she cried as she saw the shadow of the wolf’s dark head sink beneath the choppy surface of the water. “No!” 

She began to run toward the water’s edge, panic evident in her voice, but was shoved away by the weight of Finn’s body as he dashed in front of her. Rey watched in shock as Finn withdrew Kylo’s sword from beneath his woolen blanket and used it to feel the rocky bottom of the lake. Finn plunged the sword beneath the dark surface, the jewels encrusted in the hilt catching the lightning’s flash as he bent over and hoisted his arms with all his might. 

The wolf’s drenched body emerged from the surface. Kylo’s massive head hung loose as Finn heaved further, using the flat edge of the sword as leverage until he could shove his arms beneath the limp animal’s body and carry it backward toward the lake’s shore. As soon as his arms were around the black, fur covered torso —still and lifeless —Finn had no choice but to let the Captain’s sword slip from his grip lest he risk slicing the animal’s belly open. 

“Finn!” Rey called from behind him, still on the shoreline, panic lacing her voice. 

“I’ve got him, my lady!” Finn hollered, dragging the body the last few feet until he could rest it on dry ground. 

“Move!” Rey shouted, her hands reaching for the animal’s chest, throat, anything she could get her hands on. 

Shoving her hands away, Finn slid his body between hers and Kylo’s knowing it was too great a risk to have her so perilously near him. If the animal woke and hurt her, Kylo would certainly never forgive him. “Stand back, Rey,” Finn ordered, a sense of duty filling his lungs. He’d seen a farmer in Acqua once pound the chest of a lamb to get it to breathe once more; Finn decided it was worth a try.

With strength he didn’t know he possessed, Finn began to beat the wolf’s chest somewhere in the vicinity of where he suspected the animal’s heart lay. Beside him Rey prayed, her words soft as the rain pelted the grass and the water all around them, making a mourner’s symphony. A bolt of lightning rent the night sky in two, followed by a clap of thunder that shook the very earth beneath their soaked limbs. 

To Finn, it seemed as if that one moment of violent energy thrust a being caught between life and death away from everlasting light and back into the harsh, rain-sodden world of the present, because the beast beneath him came to life in a shuddering breath, then quickly thrashed its limbs, trying to get upright. In the process, the wolf’s sharp paws flexed and curled, claws seeking traction in the empty air, until one leg caught the damp ground its massive body twisted in the dirt, and another sliced right through the thin shirt on Finn’s back, leaving a series of jagged rakes through his skin. 

“Steady!” Rey yelped, holding her hands out in placation toward the black wolf. 

Finn winced in pain, his heart pounding with adrenaline and joy at his success in rousing the wolf, but also his own fear over his wounds. He felt hot blood mix with the plastered, cold wet of his linen shirt along his back. The feeling made his eyes roll back, his upper body suddenly weak as he slumped over in exhaustion and distress. 

The Kylo-wolf heeded Rey’s command, its pink tongue lolling out of his mouth as he panted heavily. Finn watched the beast shift the weight off of one hind leg and whimper in pain. 

“Yes, you and me both, Captain,” Finn sighed, drops of rain slipping from his bowed head off the tip of his nose and into the soaked ground. 

Rey stood, and on shaky legs she stepped closer to the wolf, her hands still open wide and cautious, showing she meant no harm. Somewhere, beneath the sodden fur and the animal’s wounded, glassy gaze, Rey knew the soul of a man still lived. But for now, she was dealing with an injured beast, apt to strike if it felt threatened further. 

“Steady,” she repeated as her palm cradled the top of the animal’s giant head. She looked over at Finn, worry blanketing her expression. “Let’s get you both inside,” she said warily. Finn nodded and managed to get himself to a stand, hissing in pain as the torn skin of his back burned as the raindrops pelted him. 

Rey kept her palm on the wolf, leading Kylo back toward the village along the woods’ edge, Finn shuffling behind her in the rain. 

* * *

A sliver of sunlight, narrow but warm, cut over the top of one of Kylo’s eyebrows. He opened a single dark eye as his body began to tingle. Then his bones turned to liquid fire, and the awful repetitive pain of the morph overtook every cell of his being. The pain lasted for only seconds, but it had him folded in on himself like an infant, his back rolled as if he could protect the very core of himself from the pain of body rending internally. 

The shock of agony ended as quickly as it began, and Kylo blinked again, both his human eyes now slipping open. The barn was still dark, light barely filtering in from the solitary windows up above, yet just enough that a tiny shaft of light had hit him in just the right spot, triggering the change. He shifted from his fetal pose and hissed as a wound on his right ankle throbbed in pain.

He looked down, and saw his naked body lay beneath a woolen blanket on a bed of warm hay, his injury wrapped and tied with a ripped piece of linen. As his eyes traveled back up his body, he stopped short, his breath leaving his lungs in a hushed gasp.

Beside him, inches away, lay a woman’s wrist, the skin golden and delicate as a pulse throbbed steadily right beneath the surface. 

_ Rey. _

Kylo cursed the hot tears that instantly filled his eyes, for they blurred his vision and he refused to miss a single second of this blessed experience. He sniffed, trying desperately to control his body’s overwrought reaction without disturbing the gift this moment most certainly was. His sounds must have found her in her sleep, because just then, Rey’s dark lashes fluttered open, her golden, honey-colored eyes finding his human ones. They stared at each other, eyes wide in silent shock, as they gazed upon each other in human form for the first time in over five long years. 

The shadows in the barn shifted and Kylo knew their moment was on the verge of expiring. His heart wrenched in his chest as he saw the same realization dawn in Rey’s eyes, her brows lifting and the whites of her eyes going wide and stark white as another beam of light slashed across the beautiful, tawny skin of her bare collarbone.

Kylo watched as her lips moved, her mouth attempting to make the shape of a word as her change began to overtake her. A silent tear rolled down her golden cheek, and the agony of their predicament flooded him anew, as if it was the first dawn of Snoke’s wretched curse all over again. 

“Free me of this pain,” he begged as his lips trembled around the words. With a harsh shriek, his wife morphed before his very eyes into her falcon form. Misery tormented him like Satan himself. Through bleary eyes, Kylo watched Rey beat her wings wildly before flying out the window into the new light of day, leaving him forever behind.

The suffering shifted to anguish then finally to rage as Kylo whipped himself upright, ignoring the burning in his wounded ankle. A violent fury overtook him as he stood in the nude, bellowing into the barn’s rafters. 

_ “I am being torn apart!” _

From the opposite corner of the barn, two forms stirred to life as the harsh sound echoed off the wooden walls. Kylo watched as Finn emerged from beneath a tattered cloak, followed by a haggard gray head peeking out from beneath a black, moth-bitten tunic and cowl. 

“Luke,” Kylo seethed, his pulse quickening. “What are you doing here, old man?”

Luke rose to a stand, rolling his shoulders back with as much pride as he could muster. “I’m making things right, Kylo, whether you like it or not.”

Kylo sneered, turning his head to stare at Finn, betrayal thick in the air. He took three long steps to cross the barn, his trunk-like legs unsteady with emotion and injury. Kylo grabbed Finn and hoisted him upward. “I trusted you, little vermin, and this is what you do? You conspire against me?”

Finn sucked in air through his teeth, his eyes slipping closed in what could only be an expression of pure pain. Instantly, Kylo released Finn and let his shrewd eyes travel over the younger man’s form. Lifting the blanket from Finn’s shoulders, Kylo could see the stripes of dark brown blood staining the back of his linen shirt. 

“What is this?” he asked, his voice low and threatening.

Luke stepped forward, batting Kylo’s hand away from Finn. “ _ That _ is what you did to the lad last night when he was saving your miserable life from certain drowning!” 

Kylo’s brows furrowed as a heaviness settled over his heart. His jaw flexed as he blinked away more tears. “I—I’m sorry. Please,” he whispered, “find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Finn watched him silently before finally nodding his agreement, his gaze wary as he made his proposal. “I’ll forgive you on two conditions.” Kylo’s brows raised and he motioned for Finn to continue. “One,” he began, using his finger to count off, “you reconsider trying to end the curse.” 

Kylo shook his head, his mouth opening to argue when Finn shoved that same finger against his lips to quiet him. 

“Captain!” Finn hissed as the men’s two sets of dark eyes locked together, “You  _ owe  _ me. And Luke’s idea is good,” he said, glancing at the old man. “It’s really good. I believe it can work. And if, with Providence as our guide, it  _ could _ work, is that not worth the effort to try? Was this morning’s moment not worth it, Captain?”

Kylo sighed. The boy was right. He would give anything to have Rey in his arms, her human form back without exception, this hateful course behind them. Could he give up his revenge for the chance at a peaceful life—a  _ real  _ life—with his wife?

The answer resounded, clear as crystal.

“All right,” he agreed. “We shall try my uncle’s ridiculous plan.”

Finn grinned. “Excellent,” he said, glancing over at Luke’s relieved expression. 

“And two?” Kylo prompted, huffing impatiently. 

“Two?” Finn questioned.

“You said you’d forgive me on two conditions. What, pray tell, is the second?” 

“Oh,” Finn mumbled, shifting uncomfortably as his eyes darted to the ground. “Right. The second is…” he paused, summoning courage as he held two fingers between them, “the second is that you forgive me for losing-your-heritage-sword-while-I-saved-you-from-the-lake-last-night.” 

The words blended together in a tumbled, jumbled mess. It took a moment for Kylo to dissect what, exactly, the younger man had said. As soon as he made sense of it all, though, another bout of rage returned. His pale skin flushed with anger as Kylo’s eyes went wide. He stomped his naked body as if preparing for a fight as steam rose from his bare shoulders. He quite literally  _ fumed _ .

“You did  _ what _ !”

* * *

“We’ll need a little luck and some divine intervention, but it just might work, Captain,” Finn concluded, nodding sincerely after explaining—in great detail—just how their plan would manage to get Kylo and Rey into Acqua’s cathedral.

Kylo sighed, resigned but willing to attempt breaking the Bishop’s curse if such a thing were even possible. “Alright,” he murmured, dark brows furrowed in concentration, “but how will we know if the monk’s prediction of divine intervention is accurate?”

Luke, as he was wont to do, seemed to appear out of thin air. He entered the small shelter they had spent the night in, swiftly removing his hood. “We’ll know before mid afternoon,” he stated firmly. 

Distrust flared deep in Kylo’s soul. “I warn you, old man. You betrayed us once. Do it again and it will be your last act on this earth.”

“I know,” Luke replied.

Kylo stared at his uncle’s watery blue eyes. The wrinkles that lined the man’s face aged him beyond his years. He often wondered if Luke hadn’t been so deep in his cups if perhaps all of this might never have come to pass, or if he and Rey had been destined to suffer. Had they earned God’s punishment? Had they sinned so stridently that they deserved this perpetual damnation? Finally, with a resigned sigh, Kylo nodded once, affirming his decision. 

“Rey and I… we must live as human beings.” He looked from Luke to Finn and back again. “Our lives are in your hands now.”

The day grew long, and the shadows with it. Kylo left the shelter and took to the woods, preparing for his transformation. He knew the night would be long and his fate uncertain. He walked slowly, recounting the conversations from earlier and rethinking whether or not there was any hope this preposterous plan might yield anything more than disaster. Considering Luke and Rey, in her human form, planned to gain passage through Acqua’s gates by smuggling his wolf-self in as a gift for the Bishop. 

“After all, by now word  _ has _ to have gotten out that a trapper has been sent on a mission in search of a certain black wolf’s prized pelt,” Finn had announced with a smirk as they had discussed the details of their scheme earlier.

“So you’re just going to roll on into the city, with me as a giant wolf buried beneath a tarped cage in a stolen wagon?” Kylo had asked, exasperated.

“Indeed,” Luke had replied nonchalantly. “You, my boy, need only snarl a little bit to make it look convincing to the poor Guard who grants us entry.”

Rolling his eyes, Kylo had directed his attention back to Finn. “And you, little mouse, where will you be all this time?” 

“Swimming in the sewers, more than likely, sir.”

Kylo had wrinkled his nose. It did not sound like a pleasant undertaking, but he had been grateful nevertheless for the younger man’s loyalty. “And you believe you will be able to use the sewers to get into the cathedral?”

“Oh, I do not think so, Captain,” Finn had replied before another craft grin brightened his expression. “I  _ know  _ so. I shall be directly under the Bishop’s foot. If the worshippers bother to glance down through the grates of the grand cathedral’s stone floor, no doubt they will find not a rat, but a mouse.”

“You  _ are _ clever, boy,” Kylo had said with a soft chuckle. “But what of Rey? Will she be safe, being so exposed?” 

Finn’s eyes had softened. With a solemn air, he’d replied, “She’ll be cloaked and will have protection.”

“Forgive me if I do not count an old drunk as ‘protection,’” Kylo had sneered, anger and worry churning in his gut. 

“Your uncle will be with her, yes,” Finn had agreed. “But I have also outfitted her with a dagger.”

“A dagger?” Kylo had blinked in surprise. 

“Yes. She’s more than capable of defending herself. In fact, I have learned over the past nights what an expert markswoman she is,” Finn had commented, a grin tugging on his lips. “Without her skill on the bow, I am quite certain I would have perished from starvation by now,” the young man had quipped cheerfully.

Kylo had blinked, incredulous. “She hunts? As a human, I mean?”

Grinning, Finn had replied, “Aye. Remarkably well.”

“Huh,” Kylo had murmured. “Why should I be surprised? Or impressed?” he’d spoken, mostly to himself. “The woman never ceases to amaze me.”

“One can see why,” Finn had said, smiling a knowing smile. “And you, Captain?” Finn had then asked as he steered the conversation back to the topic at hand, urging Kylo to recount his part of the plan. “Where will you be as I make my way to the cathedral doors?”

“I shall make my way past the guards and wait for you to unbar the cathedral doors.”

Finn nodded. “And I shall be there, Captain. Do not fear.”

Kylo’s fear had nothing to do with whether or not Finn would be successful in his task. His only apprehension lay with whether or not they would manage to break Snoke’s curse or if he would be forced to exact his revenge without emancipation. As the weight of what was yet to come pressed around him, Kylo’s skin itched, the harbinger of his metamorphosis.

* * *

The noon-day sun was high in the sky. Kylo and Luke had spent the morning hours in hiding, praying incessantly that Finn was finding success in the sewers, somewhere deep beneath the cobbled streets of Acqua. Rey had flown away to hunt in an adjacent field, leaving Kylo the perfect opportunity to make one final appeal to Luke.

“Uncle.” Slowly, Luke lifted wide, surprised blue eyes to meet Kylo’s dark ones. 

“Yes?” the old man asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper. “It has been many a moon since you acknowledged your relation to me.”

“This afternoon, if the cathedral bells toll, it will mean the service has ended peacefully, as it always does.”

The old man nodded. “Aye.”

“And with the ringing of those bells, you will know I have failed.” Kylo paused, swallowing thickly around the lump forming at his throat. “For Rey… I beg you… take her life. Make it quick and painless.” As Luke began to shake his head in protest, Kylo licked his lips and pressed a giant palm against his uncle’s breast as he pleaded with him. “Don’t damn her to this half-life.”

“I could not,” Luke said, voice trembling. “God would never forgive me for such a thing.”

Sadness pooled in Kylo’s eyes. “Have you ever considered that perhaps this is what God demands of you, what the good Lord has been pushing us toward, all along?”

Crying, Luke replied, “It will kill me to do so, my boy, but I shall not let you down again. I swear it.”

Relief and despair filled Kylo’s heart in equal measure. He could not bear the thought of spending the rest of his living days in this interminable hell on earth. Without a doubt, he knew Rey could not bear it any longer, either. After their moment the other morning, it became clear to him that the shared pain they suffered was one they could not continue to endure. Whatever fate bound them to one another upon first glance all those years ago tightened its knot, leaving no slack. They would either live together in the flesh or they would die together trying to break this horrid curse. 

There was living in God’s light, and there was suffering in the dark. There could no longer be this shadow life in between.

Birdsong pulled Kylo from his morbid thoughts. He turned to watch Rey swoop and dive, descending from the cerulean blue skies with a natural grace to perch on Luke’s shoulder. It amazed him that, of all God’s creatures, her personality had matched her feathered form so perfectly. Everyone knew Peregrine falcons were the fastest birds in the world. But beyond speed, falcons were known for their courage. Dauntless, his Rey had bravery in spades. She was a skilled hunter, whether human or creature. 

And true to form, when Peregrine falcons mated, it was for life.

With his resolve solid and sure, Kylo bid farewell to the man who now held his whole world in his hands. With the sun high in the sky, Kylo mounted Silencer, trusting in the giant black steed’s steadfastness as the final steps in their plan came to fruition. 

The service having already started, the Bishop’s guard stood in formation, blocking the entrance to the inner part of the city and Acqua’s famed cathedral. Silencer’s hoofs echoed on stone as Kylo approached the line of guards slowly. His helmet covered his face in imposing black and gold, and when he spoke, his words were mechanical and menacing. 

“As one who was once your Captain, I ask for passage,” he declared. 

The center guard shook his head. “On his Grace’s order, I cannot allow you entry.”

Kylo tightened Silencer’s reins, and the horse shook his head, dancing up on his hind legs and exhaling threateningly. “I will not ask again.”

The line of guards tightened, Kylo’s meaning made quite clear. And then, with a resounding clang from behind him, Kylo knew his moment had arrived. As planned, Luke had toppled over a cart of metal wares, creating a cacophony that served its purpose as the perfect distraction. With brave Silencer under him, Kylo squeezed the stallion’s flanks and man and beast—dark and on a mission deadly—darted past the guardsmen. Kylo pressed his chest low to Silencer’s back as they hurtled toward the cathedral’s doors at a breakneck gallop.

Kylo only prayed that when he got to the massive oak and iron doors, Finn made it there in time. 

He need not have doubted his young friend. As soon as the sound of Silencer’s hooves echoed in the alcove outside the cathedral entrance, the imposing doors swung open and Silencer reared once again, the promise of certain battle thick in the air. 

Kylo entered the cathedral, and hundreds of pairs of eyes fell upon him in shock and horror. Far ahead on the dais, the Bishop lifted his wrinkled and deformed visage to the cathedral entrance. Kylo was not surprised to see the wicked man take in the scene, then simply turn his back on the commotion as if it were beneath him to be bothered by such an interruption. 

Mere yards in front of him, Hux’s unmistakable form lumbered into view, blocking the wide aisle as he sat atop his own steed. The heavy, cloying scent of incense filled Kylo’s lungs as he breathed heavily, his adrenaline kicking in. 

“Armitage,” he intoned, “I see you have taken your role as Captain of the Guard most sincerely, attending mass in full armor. Is that your usual outfit, or just something you put on special, just for me?”

Hux flipped up the visor on his iron helmet. “You have no place here any longer, Ren.”

“I understood this cathedral to be a house of God. ‘Tis not your place, nor the Bishop’s, to judge who earns welcome within these walls,” Kylo bellowed, ensuring his mechanical voice carried across the stone structure. 

He sounded menacing, but inside, Kylo felt his heart, heavy like lead, sink to his stomach. Beyond the usual sacred relics and pious statues on display in the massive house of worship, Kylo saw no sign of divine presence. No indication that something miraculous was on the horizon, on the verge of breaking the evil Bishop’s heinous curse.

No, he felt nothing but the fiery anger of revenge stir in his belly and the bitter flames of resentment licking at his limbs. 

Resolved to seek vengeance and kill Snoke once and for all, Kylo slid off of Silencer, his booted feet touching the stone floor with a soft thud. “Get down off of that beast and fight me, man to man, Armitage. I shall show you once and for all what it takes to be a true Captain, a position you have not earned.” He rolled his shoulders back, standing at his full, imposing height, as he purposefully goaded Hux on, knowing he excelled at hand-to-hand combat. Without his treasured heritage sword, Kylo had to rely on other tactics. “Mine are quite big shoes to fill, even for a red-haired barbarian like you.”

“How dare you insult me!” Hux seethed, scrambling off his horse. “You are  _ nothing _ , Ren. No one. Without the Bishop’s benevolence, you would have been left in tatters on the street!” Hux took a step forward, narrowing the distance between them, his face twisted in a nasty grimace. “You should have thought with your head and not your cock. I hope the whore was worth losing everything.”

The world turned red. Everything spun around Kylo in a spiraling torrent as he screamed and charged toward Hux, intent on strangling the man alive even if it meant slowly crushing his windpipe by hand. But before he could get his gloves on the other man’s neck, the redheaded knave whipped a sword from the scabbard he had tucked behind his leg. 

“Not so fast, Ren,” Hux drawled, looking over Kylo threateningly. “I believe I might rather enjoy flaying you right here, in this house of God, as you say. Let your blood stain the stone, and remind all who pass through those doors that it is the Bishop that brings the word of God, and that he alone is supreme, in  _ all _ his decisions.”

Kylo knew it was a futile effort trying to defend himself against an armed man, but his fury and despair over their failure to finally break the curse fueled him. What did it matter if he bled out in this cathedral? It would be but a short distance to meet his Maker, then. 

He had nothing left to lose. 

But just as he took a brave step forward toward a deathly battle with Hux, a familiar voice shouted from a row of hooded monks lined up in prayer at the aisle’s edge. “At least make it a fair fight, Captain!”

Finn shoved the brown hood from his head and stepped forward and drew the massive, jewel-encrusted Sword of Ren from a burlap sack. He knelt and swiftly sent the sword skidding across the stone floor, where it slowed to a miraculous stop at its owner’s feet. 

Kylo’s eyes widened in surprise as he gave Finn the quickest glance he could spare before grabbing the weapon and wasting no time on the attack. He darted toward Hux, slicing the air with his sword as if the hefty heirloom weighed not an ounce. He managed to get the upper hand as the two swords clashed, the metal making a resounding clang in the stone chamber of the cathedral. With all his might, Kylo thrust his arm forward, using every bit of momentum in his sizeable form to knock Hux to the ground. He wrested the other man’s helmet from his head, and in a blaze of primitive fury, Kylo threw the armor up high, feeding a sudden uncontrolled hunger for destruction. 

With a shattering smash, a stained glass rosette window high at the cathedral’s apex exploded into a million pieces as glistening shards fell like rain in the massive stone structure. After the resounding clash of the broken window dissipated and Kylo’s ears stopped ringing, his other senses kicked in: first, feel of Hux’s sweaty neck beneath his palm as he held the man steady, pinned like a butterfly, to the stone floor; second, the taste of blood on his tongue as he realized his face must have been cut by a shard of glass as he could feel warmth drip over his eyebrow and cheekbone; and third, his eyes did a double-take as he caught the strangest sight through the shattered window. 

The moon was sliding in front of the sun, completely covering the giant disk of light, steadily creeping until all that remained was an ethereal halo of light around a perfectly round shadow. 

_ A night without day… a day without night. _

This was it—this was the heavenly, divine sign of which Luke had prophesied! Perhaps… perhaps the curse  _ could _ be broken after all. Everything else faded into the periphery. All that mattered now was ensuring those cathedral bells did not ring, and that his uncle would not be prompted to fulfill Kylo’s weak plea to end Rey’s suffering by snuffing out her life. 

He released Hux like he’d been scorched, his gaze immediately going to the Bishop at the dais. He watched as the old, withered man beckoned a choir boy close and whispered something in his ear. The boy looked to the bell tower, nodded, and then disappeared into the stairway that led to the rafters and the tower.

“No!” Kylo roared, scrambling away from Hux’s prone body, stumbling over the man’s legs. He folded over, catching himself on his palms. The first bell tolled and Kylo felt his will to live seep from his body like the steady drops of blood slipping from his face onto the cold stone floor. Despair filled every crevice, each cell in his massive body. The fear, pain, and guilt rent him in two.

As his emotions vacillated, Kylo felt himself shift from anguish to pure rage. In a fit of unbridled fury, he pivoted on his heels and turned back to Hux who had now risen from the floor, his sword in hand once more. He was hungry for a fight, his human instincts blurring with those of the wolf—the instinctual need for fight or flight overpowering reason. 

“Back for more, Ren?” Hux jeered. 

Kylo’s face contorted into a mocking grin. Hux’s eyes went wide, his face blanching as he watched Kylo’s rabid approach. With the bloody gash on his face and the garish sneer tugging at his lips, Kylo imagined he looked demonic. 

He cared not.

All he cared about was that those cathedral bells had sounded, and with them, Kylo’s hope for any future with his love had been dashed. And it would be  _ his  _ orders on which Luke would act, executing Rey in weakness disguised as mercy. 

Hux raised his sword and steeled his expression, assuming his attack stance as Kylo continued to close the distance between them. “I will kill you, scum,” the man spat. 

With a roar, Hux charged at Kylo, swiping his sword in a merciless strike aimed directly for Kylo’s gut. Kylo blocked the blow with his jeweled sword, wrenching the weapon in tightly against his body, his shoulders squeezing together as he pushed Hux away with all his might. In reply, Kylo lifted his sword high overhead before lunging and using his midsection to swing his unparalleled weapon in a tremendous horizontal slice, nicking Hux in the chest before he rebounded and shoved the sword’s tip between the other man’s ribs.

The redhead fell to the floor, eyes wide and unseeing. 

Without his Captain to defend him, Snoke began to back away, looking for a quick escape. Kylo refused to let the wicked man go free. If he did not end the Bishop himself, Kylo would ensure that the evil interloper answered to God himself for his sins. 

“Stop!” Kylo shouted, his long legs breaking into a run as he approached the dais. The worshippers who had not already fled the chaos within the cathedral shoved themselves against the walls, giving the massive man in black plenty of room to run wildly toward the Bishop.

It seemed Benedict Snoke lacked support from much of anyone within Acqua’s walls, now that his Captain of the Guard had been slain. 

The Bishop continued to shove his way between ornate candelabra and engraved pulpits, his robes catching on one iron candle stand and knocking it to the floor with a clang. 

“He said to stop.”

The voice came from behind him, and it brokered no argument. 

_ Her voice. _

Slowly, Kylo turned around, both longing for and dreading what he would see at the cathedral doors. Would Rey be there, in the flesh? Or was this a fever dream of his own—a blessed last vision from God or Satan himself to guide him to the pearly gates or the fiery pits of Hell?

He lifted his eyes. Rey was there—an apparition. An angel in human form bathed in the singular beam of light shining down from the eclipse’s corona. 

“My wife,” Kylo whispered, his heart fluttering like a million butterfly wings beneath the cage of his ribs, his body heavy and weightless all at once. He sank to his knees, unable to remain standing as he watched her approach in her human form after all this time. 

Rey reached Kylo’s side and stepped close enough to him, her hand tenderly reaching out to brush the black tendrils of bloody and sweaty hair off of his brow. Kylo pressed the unwounded side of his face against the loose white gown covering her lithe body, his cheek flush against her abdomen. 

“Rey,” he gasped, still partly unsure if this was all naught but a dream. 

The old hermit’s research had proved fruitful, despite Kylo’s doubts. He could scarcely believe it, and yet he saw his wife in her beautiful human form during the light of day with his own two eyes. The old tomes and ancient texts his uncle had pored over, guilt-ridden and determined over these five long years had indicated the curse would be broken on “a day without night and a night without day.” The old man had been certain that a solar eclipse would provide just the circumstances under which Snoke’s evil dictum might be shattered. 

And here they stood—the Captain dark as midnight, his bride sheathed in a gown the shade of freshly fallen snow—on shaking human limbs. His dark brown eyes held her amber ones, both of them wide and brimming with tears, as the sun and moon danced in the heavens above. 

Kylo heard the Bishop whimper as he watched the scene unfold before him, his wretched curse lifting like a fog. The old, wicked man’s petty sounds raised Kylo’s ire once more and with a surge of energy, the former Captain rose to his full, impressive height. 

“Look at her!” Kylo shouted at Snoke, baring his teeth. He needed the man to bear witness, to see with his own eyes the demise of his evil curse. “Look at me. No! Look at  _ us _ ,” he yelled, his deep, booming voice echoing off the stone walls in violent command as he threaded his fingers with Rey’s, holding on to her hand as if the very breath of life demanded it. 

Snoke’s chin began to tremble, his eyes filling with hatred. Rey placed her free hand on Kylo’s chest and looked up at him, waiting for Kylo to meet her gaze. Without a word, she flicked her eyes down to the hand pressed against his chest. When Kylo saw what she held clasped around her fingers and wrist, he met her gaze again and gave her the tiniest nod of agreement. She nodded back and unthreaded her fingers from his grasp before approaching the dais where the grimacing, decrepit Bishop stood watching silently.

Without a word, she stopped directly in front of the wicked man. Kylo watched her as she lifted her chin, her golden eyes locked on the sinister man’s clear and true, without an ounce of fear. There was nothing this weak old man could do to her now; Snoke knew it, Kylo knew it, and by the expression on her angelic warrior’s face, Rey most certainly did. 

“You underestimated Kylo,” she began, her voice clearer than the cathedral bells that had literally brought Kylo to his knees just minutes earlier. “And Luke. And Finn.  _ And me _ .” At her last words, she opened up her hand and dropped the cords of leather that had been tied to her falcon’s talons. They fell to the Bishop’s feet in silence. 

Rey retreated, her shoulders back and her chin proud, as she made her way back to where Kylo stood, bloody and battled, awaiting her return. He would always wait for her return. He would never give up on her—or himself—again. He held his hand out to her, his palm upturned, the black leather glove beckoning her into his tender embrace. 

A flash of movement behind his wife’s angelic form dragged Kylo’s lovesick eyes away from her in time to see Snoke’s crazed expression as he grasped an iron candle holder. The makeshift weapon was nearly as tall as he, and the Bishop wielded it high overhead as he charged after Rey, obviously intent on bashing his wife’s skull. 

“Rey!” Kylo shouted as he ran toward both of them, fear running through his blood like ice as he realized he might not get to her in time to save her from certain death. 

His wife, however, was nowhere near as fearful. She saw Kylo’s panic, and with fire in her hazel eyes, reached beneath the hem of her long, loose shift to remove the dagger she had hidden beneath. As Kylo approached, twisting his body to grab his sword, Rey simply reached for his hip, using it as leverage to kick up and knock Snoke off balance before leaping forward and plunging her dagger into Snoke’s blackened, blasphemous heart. 

The charlatan masquerading as a Bishop fell to the floor. Kylo and Rey stood above him, watching his mortal eyes close for the last time. 

With a relieved whimper, Rey dug her hand like a claw upon Kylo’s shoulder. He pulled her against his sturdy frame, wrapping his massive arms around her slight ribs and tucking her head beneath his chin in an enveloping embrace. 

“Husband,” Rey murmured into Kylo’s chest, her shoulders heaving in relief and happiness. 

Kylo laughed, unable to control his own joy. “Flesh of my flesh… bone of my bones,” Kylo spoke, his breath hot at the crown of Rey’s head. She lifted her head and smiled up at him. Outside, the moon slid past the sun, revealing the full light of day. 

Bright sunlight bathed the stone cathedral as the bystanders still inside began to applaud the couple, bloodied and bruised, as they embraced. Beside them, two hooded figures emerged. “Luke!” Rey called animatedly, reaching an arm out to embrace the old man as Kylo extended a gloved hand toward Finn.

He pressed his forehead against Finn’s, his voice sincere as he stated, “The truest friend I could ever have. Thank you.” Kylo lifted his gaze to Luke’s watery blue eyes. “Thank you, Uncle. For both what you did and  _ did not _ do,” Kylo said, his words heavy with meaning.

“The joy was all mine, my boy,” Luke said with a proud smile.

“God will surely have to forgive me my thievery now, won’t he, Captain?” the young man asked with a hopeful grin.

“Forgiveness is a funny thing, little mouse,” Kylo replied, shifting his gaze to Rey. “Perhaps all we really need in this life is forgiveness from one another. And love. Copious amounts of love.”

As he spoke, Kylo slid his hands to Rey’s torso, his gloved fingertips nearly touching as they spanned her waist. He hoisted her up into the beam of sunshine streaming through what was left of the broken window, the colors of the stained glass casting rainbows all over the stone cathedral. 

Kylo felt Luke’s eyes on them as he slowly spun Rey in the luminous prisms. His uncle’s lips quirked into a curious, secret smile, his words merely a whisper.  “Darkness rises, and light to meet it.”

** ~ le fin ~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. What an honor and joy to be part of this amazing project! Thank you to Moira / @codeblackspace for the beautiful mood board, and eternal gratitude to RFFA's dedicated and talented mods. <3


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